Finding Home
by aislara
Summary: After the capture of the Cabbie Killer, Mac takes Reed home. Mac is forced to face some uncomfortable feelings regarding those closest to him. Post-Ep for Taxi.
1. Chapter 1

He would never look at a taxi the same way again. Many New Yorkers wouldn't either. But unlike Reed Garrett most of them hadn't had the personal experience of being held at the hands of the Cabbie Killer. Only seven others could claim that and none of them lived to tell the tale. Tell the tale. That's why he had been chosen, a voice for the serial killer's message. He'd chosen journalism because he felt that the world had the right to know the truths going on in the world around him. It wasn't the first time his life had been endangered. When he was at Chelsea he had been badly beaten for his article on cheating. Never did he think that he would be the conduit for a madman's agenda. He thought he would be helping to bring the killer to justice through his investigating, not putting himself into his hands.

There was more to the tale than the ramblings of a madman. The rest of the tale helped bring the murderer to justice. It wasn't in the killer's plan for that tale to be told. As he lay bleeding on the floor, the world fading around him, he was certain that it would be the chapter that was forever unwritten. The world was going dark around him when he heard a familiar voice call out, "Stop right there! NYPD!" Mac's voice. The message he sent through his blog got through he thought to himself. He heard footsteps and the crackle of police radio. Hands were on him, checking for a pulse pressing on the wound that was oozing blood away. The pressure brought the pain back and his eyes popped open. A mass of golden brown curls swam in front of his eyes. The curls were saying his name. It sounded like she had something important to say, he knew her voice from somewhere. Stella. Mac's partner. She was talking hurriedly into her radio: something about a bus. Inside part of him laughed: Better a bus than a taxi. He tried to focus, but the room was fading again. More footsteps, this time heavier. The voice was saying something, and there was a deeper answering voice. The new voice was calling his name, Mac's voice he realized. Bigger hands pressed on the wound in his neck, the pain was back. "Reed, stay with me." Another, smaller hand covered in something warm and sticky, probably his own blood, took his hand and squeezed. Suddenly noise exploded around him, running feet, the rattle of a gurney a new authoritative voice snapping out commands. The world around him faded into black.

Reed awoke surrounded by the smell of antiseptics, harsh fluorescent lighting, and the beeping of machinery. He was aware of a dull pain in his throat he raised a hand up to touch the thick layer of bandages swaddling his neck. Awkwardly he tried to turn his head to see more of his surroundings but it hurt to do so. Gingerly he felt around in the bed, trying to find a way to call for someone. Before he could find the button a nurse came bustling in glancing at the monitors and making notes on a clipboard.

"I'm glad to see you awake," the nurse said with a smile. "I've sent word down to the waiting room. Your step-father will be up to see you momentarily."

"Step-father?" Reed tried to ask, but the sound came out as a croak. She held a cup out with a straw and placed it against his lips. Reed drank his fill gratefully. He shook his head to indicate he was done and started to say thank you. "Don't try to talk." The nurse cautioned him. "You've had a serious injury to your neck." She glanced out the glass window into the hallway and saw Mac striding down the hallway. "Here he is now," she said and gave his hand a pat as she left the room.

"Hey, Mac," he croaked as the detective entered the room.

"Hey," Mac replied, "Don't try to talk." Reed meant to grin but it was more of a grimace. The nurse had just said the same thing. "How're you doin'?" Reed half smiled to indicate he was as well as could be. "You're gonna be all right." Mac smiled reassuringly. "I need your help. I need to know what you remember. I know you can do this 'cause you lead us to him the first time. Here." Mac handed him a notebook and a pen. Reed thought for a moment and began to write. After Mac and finished his official interview he sat down in the chair next to the bed.

"I talked to your parents. They know you are okay. They're trying to make arrangements to get back to the city, but the Atlanta airport is socked in by fog." Reed shook his head and scribbled in the notebook.

_Tell them I'm fine. No need to cut their vacation short._

"They're worried about you." Mac said, the tone of his voice indicating that he was speaking for himself with the word 'they'. He reached out a hand to touch Reed on the shoulder. "We almost lost you." Your clues are the only reason we found you." Mac's voice trailed off at the end, betraying more emotion than he had intended. "I need to get that back to the lab." He said standing and changing the subject one hand outstretched for the notebook.

_Step-father? _

Mac shifted his weight as he read the words that Reed had written. "They asked if I was family. It was the only way they'd let me stay. " He paused and slipped the notebook back into his pocket. Mac stood there for a moment, "There might not be conventional words to define our relationship, but I care about you. What happens to you." He turned to walk out the door. "I'll be back later, after I catch him." Mac paused as if he was about to say something more, but decided against it and left.

That night Mac returned to the hospital like he had promised. His team had caught the Cabbie Killer, thanks to Reed's clues, including the unusual scent of candy corn. Reed wasn't sure how to feel. On some level he felt disconnected from the experience, as if it had happened to someone else. At the same time he was itching for his laptop to update his blog. The rational part of his brain told him that it was probably the pain killers he was on. Mac spent some time talking with the doctors out in the hall and then finally came back with a smile, a duffel bag, and a wheel chair.

"How would you like to get some real food for dinner?"

Reed grinned and nodded his agreement. Apparently the doctors were satisfied enough with his progress that they were willing to release him. Mac tossed the duffel bag at Reed and waved him towards the bathroom. "Your clothes are in evidence. You'll have to make do with my gym clothes. They're clean, I assure you."

Ten minutes later the pair found themselves rolling out the front door of the hospital. As they neared the curb, Mac called out to hail a cab. Reed stiffened instinctively. Firmly, Mac placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "I was there when Don locked him up." Reed glanced up at Mac who was staring down at him with understanding. "It's over." A yellow taxi pulled up to the curb and the two clambered into the vehicle, Mac giving his address on the Upper East Side.

Reed shot him a look of surprise at the address.

"You're staying with me until your parents can get home. Doctor's orders."

They drove along in companionable silence for a few blocks.

"It's not uncommon for witnesses to a crime to experience nightmares." Mac finally said slowly. "I want you to know that you can always talk to me about them."

"You would know." Reed said quietly, his voice coming out as a hoarse whisper. Their eyes met for a long moment and a silent understanding passed between them. Mac had plenty of experiences to give him nightmares, between his days with the Marine Corps as well as his time on the Force. The events of today would just be one more to contend with.

They continued the rest of the ride in silence. Soon enough Mac was unlocking the door to his apartment. A fantastic smell met them as they entered the apartment. Mac inhaled deeply as he entered the apartment and smiled at Reed. "Smells a lot better than what they were serving at the hospital." Reed grinned in response as his stomach rumbled.

"Not exactly the ringing endorsement I was looking," a voice called from the kitchen. A moment later Stella emerged drying her hands on a dishtowel, her hair twisted up in a messy bun. "I'm glad you're okay, Reed," she smiled touching him gently on the forearm. "When I found you. . ." She trailed off midsentence and wrapped him in a hug. Mac met her eyes over Reed's back and there was no need for words. Both of them had feared that they were too late to save him, that all their technology and forensic strategies hadn't been enough to keep them from dealing with another tragedy. For Mac it brought back memories of finding Stella bloodied and unconscious on her bedroom floor, of trying to keep Flack from dying after the bomb exploded. For Stella it was Mac abducted by Drew Bedford and tied to a chair in an underground train station. Stella released him with a gentle squeeze and bounced back on her heels.

"Dinner will be ready in a few minutes. Reed, I put a bag in the spare room with some things from your apartment if you'd like to change."

"I'll show you," Mac offered as he headed down the hallway. "I'll be back in a few minutes to help you, Stell."

"How?" Reed started to ask as they headed down the hall.

"Your keys were in evidence, so. . ."

Stella finished chopping up the bell pepper and tossed it into the salad she had thrown together. She turned to toss the remnants into the trash when Mac entered the kitchen. The salad looked tempting, and it occurred to him that he didn't remember the last time he had eaten. Casually he reached over and filched a piece of pepper from the bowl while Stella was distracted. The sweet taste made him realize just how hungry he was. Perceiving that his theft had gone undetected he boldly swiped a second piece. This time he was smacked on the wrist, "Watch it, Taylor." Stella admonished playfully, "Theft is still a crime in this city."

"Says the perp wearing my shirt." Mac replied in kind, leaning against the counter. He reached over and tugged the hem of the red tailored shirt she was wearing, his tailored shirt to be exact. She moved to slap his hands away from her but before she could succeed he caught her wrist in his hand. Stella squealed in indignation. Her green eyes flashed and she brought around her other hand to push him away. Mac's reflexes were faster, and in truth he had anticipated her reaction. In a blink of an eye he had both of her wrists trapped. Her mouth opened in surprise to find herself pinned against the counter by Mac in his kitchen. She struggled against him, but her movements were token at best. If anyone else had attempted the same maneuver they would find themselves with a wildcat on their hands. It said a lot for her relationship with Mac, her level of trust in him that she felt no apprehension in her current dilemma. In fact, the tingling sensation that was spreading across her body had nothing to do with fear, or the warmth from the proximity of their bodies, but another feeling entirely.

"I didn't have time to stop by my place between the grocery store and Reed's place," she explained ceasing her struggles. "I didn't think you'd mind." Mac loosened his grip on her wrists but didn't entirely release her, either. He made a point of giving her an exaggerated once over. "Looks better on you anyway." Their eyes met for a moment a spark of something unspoken in the air between them.

"Thanks for all this, Stell," he nodded his head to indicate the dinner partially laid out on the table.

"I couldn't have you bringing Reed home without putting something in your fridge first. A half gallon of milk and cereal is not groceries." Mac grinned silently at her.

"Guilty as charged."

"How is he?" she asked a serious note creeping into her voice, tossing her curls in the direction of the hallway. A few strands had come loose during their mock struggle.

"The doctors said he'll be fine with rest. The wound was clean and missed the carotid artery." A few millimeters to the side and he would have been dead before they got there. The emotions of the last few days, weeks even, came to the surface and his posture changed. He released Stella's hands and turned to lean beside her on the counter. "He'll have an interesting scar. No lasting damage. It'll hurt to talk for a few days and he'll be in some pain until it heals. The doctor wants someone to stay with him to keep an eye on him." Silently she reached out and rested her hand on his forearm in a comforting gesture.

"You've logged enough hours over the last few days to get you some time off."

"I seem to remember someone there with me the whole time," he wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her close.

"It's what we do." Stella tucked her head against his shoulder, allowing herself to relax.

"Your boss said to tell you to take the next two days off. Something about logging enough hours over the last few days. . ." she chuckled under her breath.

Reed appeared in the doorway, a questioning smile on his face.

"Hey. You ready for dinner?" Stella asked slipping out of Mac's arms her cheeks coloring slightly. Mac made a small sheepish shrug as he stood back up to his full height. He found himself being shooed salad in hand into the dining room. The two of them made quick work of setting the table and settling in for dinner. Mac rummaged one of the drawers and found a notepad and pen for Reed so he could join in the conversation as it was. After the drama of the last few days they kept the conversation light, talking about the latest action movie and the newest episode of the hit sitcom on TV. When they had all eaten their fill Mac took Reed into the living room to call his parents, acting as his interpreter since he still couldn't talk very well. Before too long Reed was nodding off on the couch, the pain medication taking its toll. He shuffled off to bed with a whispered thank you.

Stella and Mac sat on the couch flipping absently through the channels. On TV Bobby Flay was cooking something that involved a lot of spice. A disaster movie involving a large snake and a tornado was on another channel. Of course all the networks were filled with coverage of the 'Cabbie Killer's Last Ride' which neither of them wanted to watch.

"I don't know if I would have had the courage," Mac said finally. The words floated in the air, out of context.

"Courage for what?" Stella asked, straightening up a bit and turning to face Mac.

"To be a father," he observed staring at Billy Mays endorsing his Sham-Wow!. "Claire and I had talked about kids. I don't know that I could have done it."

"You would have been a great father, Mac." Stella reached over and took his hand and squeezed it. "Never doubt that."

"I don't like the way I felt today," he continued, uncharacteristically talking about his emotions. Mac kept all his cards close to his chest. It was rare that he opened up at all. "We have the finest team, the best technology, and we still had nothing to go on. And Reed. Reed would have been the victim." He put the remote down and gave up the pretense of finding something on TV to distract them. "I warned him about what he was doing. Making assumptions. About Jimmy Comitis."

"He's young, Mac. In his eyes he can change the world. Not unlike we were at that age." She slid closer to him, wrapping an arm around his shoulder. Mac smiled a little at the last thought. He had learned soon enough about the harsh realities of life after joining the Marines. "We did find him. It's over."

"I don't like feeling helpless."

"No one does, Mac." Stella responded quietly her own personal nightmares of feeling helpless coming to the forefront of her mind.

"Sorry, Stella," he said softly, his voice turning rough, whether from lack of sleep or emotion it was uncertain. "I didn't mean to pull up bad memories." He snaked his arm around her waist and pulled her close to him. Stella took the opportunity of the unusual display of affection to snuggle against his chest. Her eyes were heavy. She was physically and emotionally drained.

"It's okay. They can't hurt me when I'm with you," she said sleepily as her eyes drifted closed. Mac shifted his position on the couch to settle Stella into a more comfortable position. He rested his chin on top of her curls.

"I'll always be here for you," he whispered into her curls. Mac's eyes drifted shut as well.

Around five in the morning Mac awoke to the unusual sound of the sink running in his kitchen. He tried to turn but was hampered by the weight of his partner with whom he was partially pinned under on the couch. In the dim light he could make out the shape of someone moving in the kitchen. The shadow came closer and turned into a Reed shaped shadow holding a cup.

"Nightmare?" he asked with concern.

Reed shook his head and pointed to the glass of water in his hand.

"Thirsty?" Reed nodded his head in the affirmative. He moved into the living room and sat down in the armchair opposite the couch. He sipped his water and stared at his, well whatever Mac was to him, contemplatively.

Stella was curled up on the couch, half of her on Mac. Her curly haired head was tucked right up under his chin. One hand was wrapped up in his shirt, the other flat under her cheek. Mac's arm was loosely draped around her waist, the other absently playing with the corkscrew curls that were splayed against his chest. The two sat there for a few long moments in companionable silence.

"Does she know?" Reed finally whispered hoarsely.

Mac raised an eyebrow at the question.

"How you feel?" Mac stared at Reed for a long moment. Reed's eyes met his stare unwaveringly. He could see the inner dialogue Mac was having with himself. Mac turned his gaze away first and looked at the sleeping form on his lap.

"No," was his only answer.

"Why?"

Mac reached down and wrapped one of Stella's silken curls around his finger. Gently he rubbed the strands between his fingers before letting them fall away. He smiled softly at her sleeping form before finally answering, "I don't have the courage."

"Pey. . ." the word came out as a croak but the understanding was there.

Mac immediately shook his head back and forth. "Not the same. Peyton knew it, too. That's why she left."

Reed opened his mouth to speak again but this time nothing came out. He moved back to the table and grabbed the pen and paper. After a moment's pause he began writing and passed the finished words to Mac.

_I didn't think Stella was Claire just because she left your apartment that one time. I saw you together. Through the window that night-- at the coffee shop-- Sullivan's. I'm trained to be observant. Even after I thought you were together. My graduation, when I came for dinner, the Ranger's game. Tonight._

Mac put the notebook down on the end table next to the couch.

"It's not meant to be that way," Mac said finally, his tone indicating this was the end of the conversation. "It's late." Reed nodded, recognizing a dismissal when he heard one. He stopped and touched Mac briefly on the shoulder before heading back down to the guest room. Mac watched him go and found himself alone again with only his ponderings on his impossible situation.


	2. Chapter 2

Stella slowly awoke to the golden hued light of dawn filtering through the French doors. She blinked sleepily, taking in her surroundings. Vaguely she recalled watching bad TV last night on the couch at Mac's which would explain why she was still on his couch with the morning light waking her. Smiling, she remembered that Mac had told her to take today off. Stella tugged the afghan that was half draped over her and prepared to snuggle back down.

Her eyes slowly closed again. As she was preparing to drift back off to sleep a familiar voice drew her back to consciousness. "You lied to me, Detective," Mac said. She heard a rustle of fabric and a slight creak from the coffee table. Reluctantly she rolled over in the direction of the noise and cracked one eye open. The sight of Mac's knee caps balancing a coffee cup greeted her. The sweet aroma of the blend filled her nostrils encouraging her to open her eyes. The idea of caffeine was tempting, especially if she was going to have to be awake this morning.

"What?" she asked sleepily. She blinked at him in confusion. "What are you talking about, Mac?"

He half grinned at her, a playful smile, as he elaborated, "You told me that you snore."

Stella blushed, remembering the feeble excuse she had used after the fire in her apartment. At the time she had been overwhelmed by the situation and the phrase had popped awkwardly out of her mouth unbidden. "Well, I um. . ." She reached for the coffee he was balancing on his knee. Stella studiously avoided Mac's eyes that studied her as she sipped tentatively at the coffee. While averting her eyes so they wouldn't meet his playfully gaze, she noted that he was fully dressed in a suit, cleanly shaven, shoes on. She wrinkled her brow, "I thought you were taking the day off?"

"Chief called. He's holding a press conference this morning at 8. My presence was requested."

"You mean required." Mac shrugged and nodded his head in agreement.

"I need you to stay here and look after Reed." He glanced down at Stella lying on his couch, in his shirt, her hair still rumpled from sleep. Memories of her snuggled close to him last night, her head trustingly on his chest as she slept crept back into his mind. He remembered Reed's simple question, 'Does she know?'. Without thinking he reached out to tug one of her unruly curls and wind it around his finger. Her eyes widened and she stared up at him over the rim of her coffee cup, surprised at the impulsive show of affection. Green eyes met blue for a long moment. "Stella, I. . ." Mac started slowly, his voice barely audible. He hesitated mid-thought and took a slow, deep breath. "I wanted to say that the last few days. . . I've thought about. . ." Stella smiled at him encouragingly and perhaps with a little confusion. Words didn't often escape him but rarely did they elude him. She put her cup down on the end table softly. There was an intensity to the moment that she didn't want to break. One by one Mac allowed each turn of the curl wrapped around his finger to slip off until the silken tendril bounced back against her cheek. Gently he brushed the strands away from her face with his hand pausing ever so slightly as he did so. Instinctively, Stella turned and snuggled into the caress her eyes drifting shut. She felt her chin tilt ever so slightly, but whether it was her impulse or Mac's guidance she couldn't tell. However, she could feel the soft whisper of breath against her cheek. She could hear the beating of her own heart, loud in the silence that hung between them. The sensation of . . . someone else in the room?

In a moment she felt Mac pull away the warmth of his touch gone leaving a cool chill in its wake. Her eyelids fluttered open and she turned to follow Mac's gaze into the hallway. Reed was standing there looking slightly embarrassed and uncertain.

"Morning, Reed," Mac said evenly as if nothing out of the ordinary had transpired. Stella offered him a friendly smile.

"Morning," he whispered in reply and made a motion to indicate that he could go back to his room if he was intruding.

"No, I have to be going." Mac said reaching behind him on the coffee table. He pulled out Stella's purse and handed it to her. "If you give me your keys, I'll stop by your place on the way back from the Department and pick up some clean clothes. Reed's parents should be in later this afternoon and I know they'll want to see you. It'll save you the trip back and forth."

Stella quickly rummaged through her purse and handed Mac the keycard for her room at the Extended Stay Suites she currently called home. "Room 2114," she said as she closed her purse and put it back on the floor. Mac held up the card and shook it slightly as if admonishing her, "We have to do something about finding you a place."

"I haven't exactly had the time lately," she said weakly, unwillingly to start a discussion about how disheartening it was to lose one's home twice in the space of a little less than 18 months and both due to tragic circumstances. Mac stood up and put the keycard into his wallet.

"I shouldn't be gone too long," he said as he headed for the door. He reached for his overcoat and shrugged into it. As he reached for the door handle he looked back into the living room and was touched by the domesticity of the scene. Stella curled up in the afghan on the couch, sipping coffee while Reed, still in his pajamas, lounged in the armchair. Reed waved good bye with the remote as he opened the door and Stella waved with the hand not holding the coffee. Stella turned to Reed and asked him to see if Mythbusters was on and Reed began flipping channels. For the first time in many years, Mac was struck by a reluctance to leave his apartment.

Mac had done all that was expected of him at the press conference, reassuring the citizens of New York that the streets were safe again, that a taxi ride would no longer end in a potential tragedy, and that the dedication of the men and women of the NYPD was unparalleled for the dedication and perseverance they exemplified. The higher powers had been gracious to him, thanking him and his team for their efforts, particularly in catching the killer in enough time that it didn't damage their political credibility. That last part had been unspoken, of course, but understood. After a quick visit to the lab to ensure that his team had matters well in hand and to assure them all that Reed was doing fine thanks to their efforts, he headed out. When Mac told Danny that he and Stella would be taking a few days off, the younger CSI had raised an eyebrow, but said nothing beyond, "You? Take a day off? Imagine that."

Mac opened the door to Stella's suite and was struck by how impersonal it was. The company that owned the suites had done a good job of attempting to create a homey environment. Cheerful yellow stripped wallpaper lined the walls, and an intricate floral patterned carpet covered the floor. Warm wood toned furniture filled the small living room and bedroom, trying to look like a home instead of a hotel. It was the distinct lack of personalization that struck him. The paintings on the wall were of bucolic country scenes and potted flowers, not at all something that Stella would choose for herself. Although she had been living here for almost three months there were no personal items scattered about, books, photos, mementoes, anything that would indicate a person lived here. Of course, there was very little that had survived the fire. Mac remembered helping gather up the few remains into a meager handful of boxes. Checking his watch he realized that he had to get what he needed and head out if he was going to give Stella enough time to tidy up before Reed's parents arrived.

He sat down on the edge of the bed and reached for the dresser and started opening drawers. He pulled out the bottom drawer first and found it held jeans and casual pants. He randomly selected the first pair of pants on the stack, and placed them on the bed next to him. The second drawer from the bottom held a variety of knit tops. He riffled through the drawer, not sure what she would want to wear. It felt odd rummaging through his partner's things. It shouldn't, he told himself. After all he spent most of his working hours sifting through people's things. But this wasn't a victim and it wasn't his job. Shaking his head Mac turned his attention back to the task at hand.

Claire had always hated when he packed for her. She said that he inevitably managed to pick clothes that didn't fit, or that she didn't like. Personally he never understood why she'd have something in her wardrobe that she wouldn't wear. In exasperation, she had told him to pack clothes he had seen her wear recently. That advice in mind he turned his attention back to the clothing in the drawer looking for something he had seen Stella wear recently. He stopped at a jade green top he fondly remembered her wearing last week. They'd been at a crime scene and Stella had been kneeling down processing the vic's clothing. He'd stopped to talk to her and she'd tilted her head back to talk to him. From where he was standing he had a spectacular view of his partner, his partner's shirt, and her lacy underwear. It had taken a considerable amount of focus to keep his attention on the case. He took the top out of the drawer and put it with the jeans. After all, he rationalized, it was something he had seen her wear recently. The top drawer was actually two smaller drawers. The first one he pulled out was full of socks. That was easy enough he picked a pair and threw it on the growing stack and turned his attention to the final drawer.

Pulling open the drawer was like opening the Victoria's Secret catalogue. It was full of feminine, lacy, garments. Mac hesitated. 'Get a grip, Taylor, you do this all the time,' his inner voice chided him. There was no organizing principle to the drawer and it was obvious he would have to dig around to find anything that matched. Something told him that Stella was a woman that liked to match. He dug around for a few moments, and came up with a provocative black concoction and its matching panties. It was the first matched set he came across, he told himself. Using a considerable amount of willpower he refrained from imagining his partner modeling the combination and added it to the growing pile of clothes. Mac paused before closing the drawer and reached back in pulling out a more practical set of soft pink panties and satiny bra. Closing the underwear drawer he reopened the drawer of tops and pulled out a soft black sweater he'd seen her wear with a boat neck. Just providing options, he told himself as he gathered the clothes in his arms, and realized he'd forgotten to bring something to carry everything in. He headed for the closet and hoped she had a duffle of small suitcase in there.

Hanging neatly in the closet were work clothes, the pant suits she wore to court with matching blazers and blouses. At the bottom of the closet was a small rolling suitcase that you might use as a carry on for a plane. He bent over to pick it up. It got stuck on one of the garments in the back of the closet and it fell to the floor. It was a casual dress with a colored, abstract print on it, still in the clear bag from the store, with the tags on. Attached to the hanger was a smaller bag containing a pair of strappy sandals. Obviously they had been purchased together as an outfit, but she hadn't had the opportunity to wear it yet. He could imagine her wearing that out to a casual dinner. It occurred to him that he should probably take her out to dinner to thank her for helping him with Reed last night and this morning. On impulse he added the dress to the pile and started packing it into the bag.

His next stop was the bathroom. Conveniently located on the counter was a train case full of all those little feminine toiletries women seemed to need. From previous experiences he seemed to remember being yelled out for forgetting to pack his wife's shampoo. He remembered the rumpled sight of Stella's curls this morning and knew they weren't going to sort themselves out with the two-in-one shampoo he used at home so he stopped and cleaned out the stuff in the tub as well. He wasn't quite sure what half of it was supposed to do, but he shrugged and added it to the pile. Despite being an experienced detective, and the head of the lab, there were still some mysteries undecipherable to him. Mac added the last few items to the suitcase and headed out the door.

Reed and Stella spent much of the morning sacked out in the living room watching Adam and Jamie blow things up on Mythbusters. Stella made them some fresh coffee and some breakfast and they settled down to watch the fireworks, literally. She enjoyed watching the show, for all that sometimes it reminded her of what they did at work everyday. There was the time that Danny and Lindsay got to process the Batmobile, and the man with the custom designed tuxedo that could hack computers. Sounds like something that the Mythbusters would be testing on the show. At the end of the third show show, Reed indicated that he was going to go get a shower and cleaned up. Stella dug out some clean towels from the closet and left them in the bathroom for Reed while he gathered up his clothes. She glanced at the time and figured that Mac would be home soon and started tidying up the mess that they had made in the living room. As she was gathering the breakfast dishes out of the living room she noticed the cup of coffee Mac had made for her that morning. With her free hand, Stella picked up the cup off the end table. It had left a small ring of moisture on the pad of paper underneath. She went back to the kitchen and put down the dishes coming back with a paper towel to blot up the mess. The pen had made the words fuzzy but one phrase jumped out at her:

_I didn't think Stella was Claire just because she left your apartment that one time. I saw you together._

Stella stared at the words in surprise. He had seen them together? Doing what? She moved to pick up the notepad, to look more carefully at the fuzzy words when she heard the sound of a key in the lock. Hurriedly she scampered into the kitchen and busied herself with the dishes. She heard the door open and Mac's familiar footsteps enter the apartments with the added sound of rolling luggage wheels behind him. "Stella?" he called with a question in his voice.

"Hi, Mac," she called from the kitchen. She turned off the water and dried her hands before coming out to meet him. Mac had his back to her and was hanging up his coat by the door. Stella noticed a familiar bag hanging on the rack. It held the dress she had purchased a few weeks ago and hadn't had the opportunity to wear yet. She had liked the bold colors of it and had to have it, even though she had nowhere to wear it to. It wasn't dressy enough for work, and her social life was near non-existent of late. Out of all the things in her wardrobe, Stella thought it was an odd choice for Mac to make. Mac turned and saw her gaze. He smiled at her sheepishly, "I got to your suite and realized I wasn't sure what you wanted. I tried to give you some options." He reached behind and hefted the suitcase. Her face broke into a smile of understanding. He'd brought options. "I brought the dress because I thought we might go out to dinner later. . ." he trailed off uncertainly.

"I've been waiting for a reason to wear that," she grinned as she took the dress off the hook. Stella noticed that the matching shoes were still attached. "And you score points for bringing the shoes, too." Mac headed down the hallway with her suitcase. "Reed's in the shower," she told him when they Stella saw the direction he was heading in. Mac glanced at the time on the DVR. "Reed's parents should be here in about 20 minutes. You can use my room."

Mac led the way down the hallway and placed her suitcase on his bed. Stella noticed that his bed didn't look slept in. It was possible that he had made the bed before she woke up this morning, although his clothes from yesterday were draped at the bottom of the bed. She remembered snuggling up with Mac on the couch last night and she found herself wondering if they both had spent the night out there together. Was that when Reed had written that note to Mac? What had they been talking about? Mac picked up the clothes and tossed them into the laundry hamper in his closet, he nodded to indicate that she could hang her dress in there.

"There are clean towels in the closet in there. If I forgot something, I'm sorry. Claire always complained that I would forget something essential". Stella smiled at him reassuringly.

"I'm sure it's fine, Mac. Thank you," she hugged him impulsively. Mac was caught off guard, but still found himself wrapping his arms around her in return, pulling her close to him before releasing her. Stella glanced at him uncertainly, and gestured towards the bathroom, "I uh. . ." Mac followed her gaze and then understood her meaning.

"Right. . .I'll go." Mac stepped out of the room and shut the door behind him and took a deep breath. In a few moments, Stella Bonasera was going to be naked in his bedroom. He shook his head and marched down the hallway loosening his tie as he went.

Stella watched after Mac for a moment before turning her attention to the suitcase he had brought back for her. Frankly she was curious to see what he brought back for her. As she had a no men in her apartment rule, she never had had the experience of having someone pack for her. _No men except Mac rule_, she corrected mentally. The first thing she saw was her toiletries from the bathroom. Actually, she thought looking more closely, she thought that every item in her bathroom was probably in the suitcase except for the towels. She chuckled to herself at his thoroughness, or was it thoughtfulness she mused as she unloaded the bottles. Of course she was grateful for the conditioning balm. Her hair was a rumpled mess and there was no other way she was going to get the snarls out. Underneath she pulled out the clothes and laid them out of the bed. She chuckled a little at the choices. Mac had managed to bring one of her lowest cut tops, as well as one of her most conservative tops. She wondered if that had been a conscious decision on his part, or if he had just grabbed the first two tops he found. Next was the underwear. She raised an eyebrow as she pulled out the wispy black panties and matching bra she had bought on a whim. What had Mac thought as he had pulled that out of her drawers? Her face flushed red as she pictured him rummaging through her drawers, holding them in his hands. A warm heat spread through her body imaging other reasons why he might have them in his hands. Shaking those thoughts from her head she gathered up the toiletries and headed for the shower.

Mac finished untying his tie and tucked it safely into his jacket pocket. He unbuttoned the top two buttons of his sky blue shirt and shrugged off the jacket, draping it over one of the chairs in the dining room. Mac felt a set of eyes on him and turned to see Reed standing in the doorway a role of gauze in his hands and a tube of ointment in the other. Wordlessly, he pulled the chair out from the table and indicated that Reed should sit in it.

The wound was still raw and red but the skin was cool to the touch and showed no sign of infection. Mac carefully bound the wound back up, no need to scare Reed's parents more than they had been. Physically Reed would recover, a scar the only outward sign of his ordeal. Mac suspected that the reality of what had happened hadn't hit him psychologically. He was certain Reed would recover from that ordeal as well. In the short time they had known each other, Mac recognized in him a fellow survivor.

"Did you tell her?" Reed asked. Mac continued on with his task, sidestepping the question literally and physically as he moved behind Reed as he finished the bandage.

"Is that too tight?"

"It's fine," Reed turned in his chair to stare back up at Mac. He glared at him, daring him to avoid the question again.

"No," Mac answered as he rewound the extra gauze and methodically placed the ointment on top. He handed it back to Reed. Mac sat down in the chair next to him. The two sat in silence for a long moment. Finally Mac continued, "I tried."

"Sorry," Reed responded apologizing for intruding on their moment.

"Don't be." Mac said as he stood up, squeezing Reed's should reassuringly. "I couldn't do it." Mac turned to head into the kitchen. He was sure there were dishes to do, or something to keep him busy.

"Show her." Reed croaked out. Mac stopped in his tracks and turned back to stare at Reed. He raised one eyebrow in question. Reed stood up in response and met his gaze steadily. The unspoken message, _you heard me_, was plain.


	3. Chapter 3

Mac methodically emptied the dishwasher, loosing himself in the familiar monotony of the task. Normally he hated to do the dishes, but today it was something to keep his hands busy while his mind wandered. The past few days had brought too many thoughts he had fought to keep suppressed to the forefront of his mind. For a man that was noted for his ability to stay detached from any situation he was finding it increasingly difficult to maintain that detachment. He noted that the dishwasher had been almost full and he had a hard time remembering the last time he had so many dishes to wash simultaneously. Typically it was just himself, or Stella when she dropped by. Usually when she did, she'd bring dinner with her as the barren state of his cupboard and refrigerator was well known to her. Mac systematically returned the dishes to their respective homes and found himself not minding that the task was taking longer than usual. From down the hall he could still make out the faint sound of the shower running. In the living room, Jim Cantore was expounding upon the upcoming hurricane season. _Reed must have the TV on_, he realized as he listened to the predictions for how many named storms there would be this season. Mac smiled as he tucked away the last coffee mug and shut the dishwasher. He was unaccustomed to the sounds of other people in his apartment, or at least the sounds of daily routine. Yet the experience was not unwelcome, only unfamiliar. Absently Mac wondered what it would be like to come home to a place inhabited by living people instead of ghosts. Maybe he would be more likely to actually leave work if he had a home to come to. He had an apartment, yes, but it hadn't felt like home in a long time. Someone had once told him that a house wasn't a home until it had seen a birth, a death, and a wedding. So far it had only seen death. They had moved into the apartment only a few months before 9/11. Finished with the task at hand Mac strolled back into the living room and took a seat on the couch. Reed was sprawled in the armchair across from him, his eyes shut and his breath coming in a steady, deep and even pattern. Flat across his chest was a notepad, several pages full of tight writing, the pen still dangling from one hand. Mac suppressed a chuckle at the sight. Claire had often done the same thing, passed out in that very arm chair with reports on her chest.

A knock at the door drew Mac's attention back to the present and he rose to answer it. The sound hadn't disturbed Reed's slumber and he continued snoozing peacefully. Mac opened the door to great the Garretts. In low tones he whispered, "Reed just fell asleep in the chair." The Garrett's nodded their understanding as they quietly made their way into the apartment. Angela and Kevin Garrett were both in their mid to late sixties and looked every inch the concerned parents. With dark circles under their eyes and worry lines evident on their face it was obvious the couple probably hadn't slept since getting Mac's phone call. Without a thought, Angela hurried over to the living room to see her son. Relief mixed with concern flooded her face as she looked over her sleeping son, noticing the large bandage still wrapped around his neck. Tenderly she ran her fingers through his hair, reassuring herself that he was really there and safe. Tearing her eyes away from her son she glanced up at Mac and silently mouthed the words, "Thank you." Tears glistened in her eyes. Kevin stood next to Mac in the entryway his eyes drinking in the sight of his wife and son.

"Angela has been worried sick," he told Mac in hushed tones. "She was near climbing the walls when we couldn't get a flight out. If the airline hadn't been able to book us on a flight this morning, we would have been renting a car." In the few times they had met, Kevin had shown himself to be a friendly sort, but one that didn't go in for that 'touchy-feely nonesense' as he termed it. It was obvious from the way that the tension was draining from his body, that he had been just as frantic as Angela even if his words didn't say as much.

"The doctors said he'll be fine with rest. His voice should return in a few days, although it might still pain him to talk for a little while longer."

"Why did this happen?" Kevin asked, tightly controlled. "We saw part of the news coverage in the airport, something about his blog."

"The perpetrator was using him as a mouthpiece for his message. He realized through your son he could reach thousands of people."

"How could he allow himself to. . ." Kevin's voice started to rise, anger that he had attempted to keep in check boiling out. Anger not at his son, but at the situation and the madman who had done this too him.

"Kevin," his wife whispered loudly, "please." She nodded her head at Reed's sleeping form. The sound of voices had woken him, however, and he stirred sleepily. The notebook and pen he had been holding slid to the floor.

"Mom?" Reed said sleepily opening his eyes. He started to straighten himself up in the chair.

"I'm here, sweetie," she answered, smoothing back his hair. "How are you? Are you alright?"

Reed nodded his head in the affirmative, "Fine," he squeaked as his mom threw her arms around him and near smothered him in a hug. Kevin made a harrumph noise next to Mac and said, "Women." Mac was inclined to think that the bluster of the man next to him was a cover for his own emotions.

"I was so worried about you!"

"Mom," Reed choked out as he tried to disentangle himself, his cheeks flushing in embarrassment. "I'm. . ." his voice gave out and he turned an imploring look in Mac's direction.

"Mrs. Garret," Mac said calmly moving into the living room, "Reed can't talk easily at the moment." He bent over and picked up the fallen notebook and pen and handed them to Reed. Mrs. Garrett reluctantly released her son and sat down on the couch tugging Reed next to her. With an affectionate smile he began scribbling away at the notepad. Kevin joined the pair on the couch to see what Reed was writing. Mac moved away from the family scene stopping in the doorway to observe, but not intrude.

"Moments like this make the job easier," a soft voice said behind him. Mac knew without turning that Stella was behind him, he smelt her particular scent before she spoke. He took a step to the side to make room for her beside him.

"He's safe now. I imagine that's all that matters to them," he responded. Stella reached over and squeezed his hand reassuringly. Mac interlaced his fingers with hers and the two stood in companionable silence. After a few moments, Reed glanced up and saw them lurking in the doorway. He waved his hand to indicate that Stella and Mac should join them in the living room. Without releasing Stella's hand, Mac led the way into the living room stopping in front of the only unoccupied piece of furniture. With a gesture he indicated that Stella should sit, and then rested his own frame against the arm of the chair.

"Detective Bonasera," Angela said with some surprise, "I'm sorry I didn't notice you when I came in. I was so distracted by Reed." She squeezed his arm fondly as she said his name. Reed gave Stella a long-suffering glance.

"That's quite alright. I was still in shower when you came in," Stella smiled reassuringly.

"Oh," she laughed, giving Mac and Stella a speculative stare. "That would explain why I didn't see you."

"Reed has been telling us how the two of you saved his life," Kevin said roughly, looking down at the scribbled lines in his son's hands. "We're forever grateful to you."

"Reed gave us the clues we needed," Mac said simply. "You should be proud of him. Without him we wouldn't have solved this case." Mac smiled at Reed as he said those last words. It was obvious that Mac was proud of him.

"Still, thank you." Angela hesitated, "He told us how you. . ." her voice trailed off and trembled with emotion. "When he was . . ." She gestured to her neck mutely. Stella leaned forward and took the older woman's hands in hers. A long glance passed between them and they understood each other. It would be a long time before Stella was able to forget the surge of panic within her as she had seen Reed bleeding out on the warehouse floor, her hands too small to stop the bleeding.

"I only wish we had gotten there earlier."

"Those poor people. . ."Angela said with a sob. Stella glanced over at the notes that Reed had written to his parents. She noted that it was a sanitized version of what had happened, not that his ordeal could be told without some element of horror.

Reed started scribbling in the notebook and then held it up for all of them to see, _I need to write about it. What happened to me._

"Your blog?" Stella asked. Reed shook his head.

_This is bigger than something for my blog. Deeper. It's something I need to do._

Mac nodded his head in understanding, "A catharsis."

Reed pointed his finger at Mac and nodded. The pen hovered over the paper for a moment before scribbling out:

_Sometimes we need to bare our souls to fully heal. To face our fears in order to banish the nightmares._

Mac quirked an eyebrow at the mention of nightmares. Last night Reed had said that it wasn't nightmares that had woken him, but thirst. Reed shook his head imperceptibly in response to the unspoken question. No nightmares, not yet, anyway.

_Tell me about Atlanta_, Reed wrote trying to inject some normalcy into the conversation. _How was Aunt Carol? _

Reed's parents proceeded to launch into a discussion of their vacation visit to Kevin's sister outside Atlanta. They ended up discussing their visit to historical homes and places surrounding the Atlanta area. From the conversation, Mac and Stella gathered that Angela saw herself as a Southern Belle in a previous life. Her complete lack of southern drawl was no hindrance to this illusion. Kevin got caught up speaking about the Kennesaw Mountain Battlefield Park they had visited and the details of the campaign. Through the conversation it was revealed that he had been in the Army during Vietnam and Mac and Kevin ended up off swapping military stories. Considering the circumstances that had brought the odd assortment of people together the conversation began to flow naturally and resulted in all involved loosing track of the time. When they thought to glance at the clock they realized it was well after 1PM. Reed's parents lived over in Jersey and the ride home with traffic would be close to an hour and a half. As they hadn't eaten anything other than snack mix on the plane since the night prior they decided to grab a quick lunch before they headed home. Mac called out for pizza as one of the complaints the Garrett's had about their vacation was the lack of 'real pizza' in the South. After lunch, Kevin headed out to go retrieve the car from the nearby parking garage. Mac followed Reed down to the guestroom to help him gather up his things in preparation for heading home with his parents. That left the two women alone with the dishes.

Angela laughed as she realized that she and Stella had been deserted by the males. "Typical," she chuckled. "Leave us ladies to clean up the dishes. Talk about gender roles."

"I don't think that it was intentional," Stella replied as she gathered up a stack of plates. "Mac usually would be right here with me for all he hates doing the dishes."

The older woman held her hands up in mock surrender, "I give. It wasn't my intention to offend." She paused for a moment, "Detective Taylor seems to be a good man."

"He is," she smiled. "The best I know."

"I was worried when Reed told us he was going to look for his birth mother. Somehow I knew that the day would come," Angela busied herself with wiping crumbs from the tabletop. "Reed didn't grow up knowing he was adopted. I was afraid that if he knew, that it might make him less mine somehow. We had tried for so long to have a child of our own, once we found him I was terrified of losing him. When he was a teenager, he started asking questions. Right before he turned eighteen we told him the truth." She gave up a pretense of cleaning and glanced over at Stella.

"When he told us that he found you, instead of his birth mother I admit that I was relieved. That no one could take him from me. That fear had always been in the back of my mind," she sighed. "Then he told me about Detective Taylor, Mac, and how he'd brought pictures. And then there was the incident at Chelsea. . ." she trailed off. "But after meeting him, the both of you, at his graduation I wasn't afraid anymore. I wasn't being replaced. He seemed to find the situation just as awkward as we did. I don't know why I'm telling you this."

Stella reached out and laid an arm on the older woman's shoulder in a reassuring gesture. "Sometimes it's easier to tell a stranger."

"After all you've done for Reed, Detective, you're not really a stranger anymore though, are you?"

"You're still calling me Detective instead of Stella and I'm sure Mac would tell you to call him by his first name if he was here." Angela smiled at Stella.

"How long have you and Mac known each other?"

"We've been partners for almost ten years."

"And how long have you been together?"

Stella looked at her in confusion, and then she realized what the true question was, "Oh!" Stella chirped. "That is we're not. . ."

Angela looked slightly embarrassed, "I'm sorry. I just assumed. Reed had said that you were friends but today. . . when you came out of the shower and. . ." she looked out into the living room. Next to the door both of their field cases were lined up under their coats, Stella's shoes sitting next to hers. Her purse was still on the coffee table from this morning her nail file out next to it. On the kitchen counter a cell phone was plugged in charging, and unless Mac had taken to the color pink suddenly, one would logically assume it was a woman's. And of course, the damning evidence to outside eyes, the fact that she was in the shower in Mac's room when the Garretts had arrived.

"It's not like that. . .I came over last night to help him with Reed and fell asleep on the couch. Then he got called in to work so I stayed."

"Of course, dear. Forgive an old woman her active imagination," she gave Stella a motherly pat on the arms. With a merry twinkle in her eyes she continued, "But that doesn't explain why Detective Taylor spent most of lunch undressing you with his eyes."

Mac sat on the bed in his guest room and watched as Reed tucked away the few things he had left in the guest room. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his business card and wrote on the back.

"I want you to know if you need anything, you can call me," he pointed to the writing on the back of the card. "That's my cell phone. You can call me anytime," his mouth quirked up in a half grin. "I don't sleep much anyway." Reed sat down heavily on the bed next to him. Mac put the card into his hand.

"I understand that there are details that you can't tell your parents. I saw that you edited what happened for their benefit. To protect them. This is what I do. You can't shock me."

Reed nodded mutely. After a moment he put his arms around Mac and hugged him. Awkwardly Mac put his arms around him in return, unfamiliar with this type of display.

"Come on," he said rising to his feet. "Your parent's are waiting to take you home."

Mac headed down the hallway his feet taking him towards the kitchen where he heard the sound of voices. He started to poke his head through the doorway when he caught the tail end of the conversation, ". . . why Detective Taylor spent most of lunch undressing you with his eyes." He stopped in his tracks and turned sideways against the wall so that the women in the kitchen couldn't see him. _Undressing Stella with his eyes_? he thought to himself. Had he been that obvious? When they had been seated around the table having lunch the conversation had wandered off to a discussion of Project Runway. Apparently Stella and Angela were both fans and were heatedly discussing some outfit or some such. Mac had sat back and relaxed, allowing the conversation to flow around him. When Stella was in the shower he had wondered what outfit Stella would choose to put on and he had been a little disappointed when she came out wearing jeans instead of the dress. However, he had said that he'd take her to dinner later and he supposed her intentions may have been to change. That being said he was secretly amused that she had put on the jade green top he had pulled out of her drawers first. Of course it was because the color brought out her eyes, not because of the other figure enhancing properties the shirt had at all. When Stella leaned forward to highlight a point she was making, although what point that was he'd be hard pressed to remember, it was only natural that he should appreciate how nice she looked. It was like admiring a fine work of art he rationalized. Part of him wondered why she picked that shirt: Did it fit better than the other? Was it cooler? Did she like the way the fabric felt against her skin? From there his mind had gone into more dangerous territory. He began to wonder what was under the shirt. She had opted for the more provocative top, did her underwear match? Well, he knew it matched, but did she choose the black or the pink. But surely he wasn't 'undressing her with his eyes' he was merely curious. Perfectly normal he tried to assure himself.

"Oh, I didn't see you there," Stella exclaimed as she trundled into Mac full force snapping him out of his reverie. She rocked back on her heels and Mac reached out to steady her. His hand caught the sleeve of her shirt, accidentally tugging it partially off her shoulder. "I was just coming to get you." Mac watched attentively as she adjusted her shirt sleeve on her shoulder. _Black_, Mac noted, curiosity satisfied. "Kevin has the car waiting down below. He's afraid he's gonna get a ticket if he idles too long."


	4. Chapter 4

"Stella?" Mac called out as he reentered his apartment. He kicked off his shoes and lined them up against the wall by the front door.

"Out here," came the answering call. The French doors at the end of the living room stood open, the sheer curtains blowing gently in the afternoon breeze. Mac softly padded out across the living room and out onto the balcony. Stella was leaning against the stone wall of the balcony looking out at the scene below her. It was a beautiful early summer afternoon. The sun was warm on your face, and the light upper level breezes kept the air from becoming too heated. Silently, Mac joined Stella at the rail his arm brushing against hers as he folded them against the railing. She turned and smiled at him before turning her attention back to the scene below them.

"From up here the city looks beautiful. You can't see the ugly details that keep us so busy." Stella sighed softly.

"It's like an impressionist painting. From a distance, they look beautiful. But up close, it's just a bunch of dabs of paint." Stella nodded her head in agreement with Mac.

"It must be nice to come out here and unwind after a long day at work."

"I rarely come out here." Stella turned around beside Mac so she was facing him, her back against the wall.

"Why?" she asked in confusion. "If this was my place I'd be out here all the time. On a morning like today's I could imagine eating my breakfast out here. I could even do it in my pajamas since you have one of these private terraces." Mac's apartment was in the corner of the building. The patio was inset slightly so that the neighboring balconies were not visible. Complete privacy.

"Of course I might finally have to get around to getting patio furniture." Mac mused staring around the patio. The space was completely bare.

"You've only lived here, what eight years?" Stella teased.

"It's still practically a new home." Mac grinned in response. Stella sighed and her playful attitude deflated slightly. "Sorry, Stella," Mac offered quietly, realizing that his comment, however unintentional, pointed out that Stella didn't have a real place to call home at the moment.

"It's alright, Mac," Stella said brushing off the comment. She turned around to look back out at the scenery.

"It's a nice area around here. There's a small grocery store on the corner. A few blocks over there is a row of little shops, bistros, and a small park all within walking distance."

"Playing realtor?"

"We could go for a walk, see if any signs are up." Mac suggested, "Later we can stop by one of the bistros for dinner." Stella glanced over at him and he smiled at her in return. "I did promise to take you somewhere that you could wear that dress."

She smiled back at him, "True," she pushed herself away from the wall. "I guess I should change then, huh?" Mac nodded.

_____________________________________________________________________________________

A short while later, the pair found themselves strolling down the street enjoying the late afternoon sunshine. They were not the only ones who had thought to enjoy the beautiful day outside and the streets were more crowded than expected. Mac rested his left hand on the small of Stella's back to keep her close as they meandered down the streets. Subconsciously he rubbed his hand gently against her back enjoying the silky feel of the fabric of her dress. The conversation flowed naturally between them as they eyed up the buildings in the neighborhood. As they turned the corner the streets were lined with small shops and boutiques. Mac pointed out the small sheet music shop he frequented and the bagel shop where he picked up breakfast for the team on Monday mornings. They lingered for a few moments at the bagel shop watching the owner make bagels the traditional way. With a natural rhythm that spoke of years of experience, the bagel maker effortlessly placed bagels into a steaming copper pot of water. Gently he flipped each one before moving it to the large metal trays that would take to them to the large wall ovens behind. A pair of pig-tailed children stood next to them, entranced by the show. The two squealed in excitement as they saw blueberry bagels going into the pot. One of them jumped up a bit too enthusiastically and landed squarely on Mac's foot. She rocked unsteadily, her arms flailing. Instinctively, Mac grasped her shoulders and steadied her on her feet. A blonde haired woman came running over dropping her cell phone into her purse.

"I'm so sorry. The girls love to watch the bagel maker and I was checking my voice mail." She had the good grace to look chagrined.

"No harm done," Mac replied with a smile at the little girl. She smiled shyly at him, revealing the gap toothed smile of a kindergartener.

"Blueberry's my favorite," she declared as if that explained everything.

"It's one of mine, too."

Not to be out done by her sister the other little girl turned around and shared, "I like the Cinn-a-mon Raisin." She carefully enunciated each syllable as if she had just learned to say it properly.

"Some mornings," Mac lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper as he bent down to talk to the girls, "I eat one of each!" The girls giggled at the exaggerated confession of a grown-up. He whispered something else in their ears which set them to laughing again. One of the girls pointed to Mac's belt. His jacket had pushed back as he squatted down to talk to the children and his badge was visible.

The girl's mother sighed softly as she watched the normally reserved detective unclip his badge and show it to the girls. They were impressed by how 'shiny' it was, but wanted to know why he didn't wear it on his shirt like the policeman who came to their school.

"If they get two words out of their father, I count it a good day," the woman said sadly to Stella. "You're a lucky woman. Your kids must adore him." She bustled over to collect the kids reminding them that they had dance lessons to get to and to thank the nice police officer for his time. Mac stood back up, clipped his badge onto his belt, and straightened his jacket. As he finished righting himself he turned back to Stella. She was watching him with a bemused smile.

"It never hurts to do a little PR with the kids," he shrugged answering her unspoken question, "although, if their mother hadn't taken them off when she did, they would have been asking to see my gun next." Stella's smiled widened as she shook her head. Mac responded with a questioning look.

"It's nothing," she replied uncertainly, "their mother just said how much our kids must adore you." Stella avoided looking at him as she explained, making a show of examining the window display at the shop next door.

"It's not the first time you've been mistaken for my wife," Mac moved to stand next to her in front of the next window.

Stella glanced over him and replied, "Reed." The words she had found written on the notepad in Mac's living room came back to her: _I didn't think Stella was Claire just because she left your apartment that one time. I saw you together. _Other people had mistaken Mac as her husband before and it had never bothered her before. She supposed it was just that it was so soon after Angela mistook that they were in a relationship that it was affecting her. And then there was the comment that she had made about Mac 'undressing her with his eyes'.

"While you were helping Reed pack up, Angela asked how long we had been together."

"Oh," Mac returned casually, shoving his hands in his pockets as he tilted his head to one side, "and what did you tell her."

Stella blushed slightly, "I told her that we had been partners for almost ten years. I misunderstood the question. Oh!" she pointed inside the shop at a dress hanging on a rack inside, "I need to try that on!" She scurried for the door. Mac shook his head and strolled after her a perplexed, but somehow indulgent smile on his face.

It was more than an hour later when Mac and Stella emerged from the shop. Mac had never been the guy that was trapped in the store holding a purse while the owner of said purse tried on everything in the store. Until today, that is. Claire had always gone shopping with one of her girlfriends so he hadn't been treated to this particular male rite of passage. It hadn't been the harrowing experience that other men often described it as. After all he had been provided his own private fashion show as Stella asked his opinion on everything she tried on. Somehow having permission, no make that being invited, to give her a close once over brought the experience to a whole different level. Having been married previously, he was able to avoid making missteps around that minefield of a question "How does it look?" She seemed to take his opinions seriously, and even ended up buying the outfit he suggested she try on.

"The sales girl must have been happy you came in today. I think you made her commission for a week."

"I don't have a lot of summer stuff in my wardrobe right now, and I have a nice insurance check in my bank account." She tucked her wallet and receipts back in her purse. "You know, you can let me carry some of that," Stella said indicating the bags that Mac was toting out of the store. Mac looked down at the bags he was carrying and selected the smallest one, containing some earrings she picked out, and handed it to her. She made a face at him, indicating how she felt about the situation, but she took the bag anyway.

"Officer and a gentleman," Mac said as way of explanation and held out his arm for Stella to take. With a laugh Stella slipped her arm through his her hand resting lightly on his arm.

"I could get used to this," she said smiling up at him. A feeling of warmth that had nothing to do with the heat of the day spread through her. "Next you'll be buying me flowers," she continued with a cheeky grin. Mac returned the grin with a wicked one of his own and crossed the street. Two shops down on the other side was a small flower stand. Stella stopped when she realized where they were heading. "Mac, I was kidding," she protested weakly. Mac released her arm and held up a finger to indicate she should wait there. A moment later he was back with a small bouquet of daisies their stems wrapped in a long satin ribbon. The flowers were a variety of warm yellows and reds, hues that reminded her of summer sunsets. "I," she started as she reached out to take the flowers from Mac. He didn't release them and their hands overlapped around the stems. "I was teasing," she said simply looking down at the flowers. They stood there for a long moment.

"I know," Mac responded as he released his grip on the bouquet. He reached out and tilted Stella's chin up so that she was looking him in the eyes, "I wanted to." She stared up at him, for once at a loss for words as she lost herself in the intensity of his stare. "Thank you," she whispered afraid to say the words any louder for fear of breaking the moment. Unbidden tears started to spring to her eyes, and Stella Bonasera did not cry over things like flowers. Maybe it was the emotions of the last few days, the sweetness of the gesture, or the lack of sleep finally catching up to her. But for once in a long time, perhaps even the first time ever, she felt truly cherished and it was frightening and wonderful at the same time. "It's just been a long time since someone bought me flowers."

Mac slowly put down the bags he was carrying on the ground next to him. Slowly, so that Stella had the option to push away he placed his hands on either side of her face. Gently he wiped the lone tear that had escaped her eyes from her cheek. Her eyes widened slightly but she leaned almost imperceptibly closer. "Then I'll have to do it more often," he told her as he leaned forward to kiss her softly on the forehead.

*******************************************************************************

"Aw, for Christ's sakes, come on!" Danny shouted as he looked at the passenger side window.

"What's your problem? The light was red!" Flack shouted back. The two had been called out to a break-in on the Upper East Side and were nearing their destination.

"Why am I always the last to know?" Danny slammed the dashboard with his hand. "Even you knew about Peyton by the time I found out!"

"What are you talking about?" Flack demanding turning to look at his friend beside him. He followed Danny's gaze out the window and saw Mac standing by a display of flowers. It looked like he was talking to someone behind the blooms. "So the man likes flowers."

"Look again."

As they watched the man picked up an armload of lavender striped shopping bags and held out his hand to someone behind the flowers. To his mild surprise Stella stepped out carrying a bouquet of daisies and linked arms with Mac. "Well, they are friends." Don started.

"Yeah, that doesn't explain why he just kissed her."

"Stella kisses Mac all the time."

"Yeah, but he was kissing her." He flopped back in his seat as the light changed and Flack started the car back down the street. On the forehead, but it still counts. He stopped by the lab today and said they were taking a couple days off. There must be something going on."

"If there is something going on between them, Messer, and I mean if, then it's between them." Flack cautioned him. "You know, kinda like you and Lindsay."

*************************************************************************************

After a quiet dinner at one of the local bistros Mac frequented Stella and Mac found themselves turning their steps back to Mac's apartment as twilight settled around them. The talked quietly of inconsequential things as they strolled and before too long they found themselves back at the door to his apartment.

"Thank you for today, Mac." Stella smiled as she watched him empty the packages he had carried all day into the armchair in his living room.

"I thought dinner was my thank you to you," he asked with a lopsided grin.

"I should probably get going," Stella commented without much conviction in her voice.

"Probably," Mac echoed. He stepped closer to her so that they were standing toe to toe. "But there's nowhere we need to be tomorrow, so why rush."

"I suppose I could stay a little longer," Stella said slowly. She was reluctant to return to her impersonal and lonely hotel room after spending what amounted to a near perfect evening with Mac. At the same time feelings that she had considered long repressed and under control were trying to bubble to the surface. Her instinct was to run before they overwhelmed her.

"I have a bottle of wine in the kitchen that Sid gave me for Christmas," Mac wheedled. "He says it's a good year."

Stella toed off her shoes and kicked them next to the door in the way of an answer. "I can't have you drinking alone, now can I?"Mac headed into the kitchen to retrieve the wine and glasses and was surprised to hear Stella's footsteps behind him.

"Coming to help?" Mac asked in curiosity.

"No, I think it's finally time I got these flowers in some water."

"I, uh," Mac wrinkled his brow, perplexed. "I'm not sure I own a vase."

Stella laughed, "Not much call for one, eh?" She brushed up next to him, and Mac couldn't help himself from breathing in the scent of her shampoo. Oblivious, she reached up into the cabinet next to him reaching on tip-toe for a pitcher he had stored on the top shelf her body rubbing against his as she stretched. After struggling for a moment she hooked the handle with her finger and pulled it down.

"You could have asked," Mac commented as he pulled out the wine glasses. "I am taller than you."

Stella declined to comment and busied herself with unwinding the ribbon from the bouquet and cutting the stems before putting them in water. Mac uncorked the wine and took the two glasses out into the living room setting them on the table. While waiting he poured out the two glasses of wine before kicking off his own shoes and shrugging out of his jacket. A moment or two later Stella joined him, placing her impromptu vase in the center of the coffee table. She sat down heavily on the couch next to him. He was pleased to note that she sat literally right next to him. The hem of her dress was touching his pants. Wordlessly he handed her a glass and touched the rim of his to hers. It was nothing they hadn't done a hundred times before, but tonight it felt different.

"I had a wonderful night tonight, Mac. I can't remember the last time I've felt so. . ." she stopped herself before she said 'loved'. "Relaxed," she substituted.

"We'll have to do it again, sometime. After all, you still haven't found a new place."

Stella sighed, "No, no I haven't." She swirled her wine in her glass. "To be honest, I haven't been looking very hard."

Mac tilted his head to one side encouraging her to continue.

"I always have an excuse: housing prices are ridiculous, I have a big case at work, I'm at work all day when do I have time to go look, there's always something." She drained her glass of wine and held the glass out to Mac for more. He poured silently, allowing her the opportunity to continue. For a long moment she studied the contents of her glass. "But they're just excuses."

Softly Mac put his glass down on the table and reached out his arm to Stella offering her the opportunity to move closer. She slid over part way, Mac pulling her the rest of the way against him. "So what's the real reason?"

"I'm afraid that if I find another place, something terrible will happen again. That I'll always be looking over my shoulder waiting for it to happen. That I won't feel safe in my own home." Stella tucked her head into Mac's shoulder and hid her face behind her hair. "I know it's silly."Although he couldn't see her face, he could tell that she was trying not to cry. Her breath was coming in small uneven gulps and her body was trembling. "It's not," he reassured her. He turned so he could wrap her in a hug and gently ran his fingers through her hair in a soothing gesture.

"Last night you said that you feel safe with me."

"I did?" Stella said.

"You were mostly asleep at the time."

"Well, I do," she squirmed a bit in a manner that suggested she was trying to wipe away tears.

"Stella," he pushed the hair out of her face so he could see her face. "I have an extra room and we've established you don't snore." Stella blushed at the last comment. "Why won't you stay here?"

She was silent for a long moment, "Because I'm stubborn." Mac smiled and nodded in agreement.

"I'm stubborn, too," Mac countered

"We're quite a pair."

"Stay the night." It wasn't phrased as a question, but it wasn't a demand either. If the simple phrase had been uttered by another man it would mean something quite different. An evil voice in the back of her head asked, _what if he means it the same way_.

Stella glanced up at him.

"In the spare bedroom," he clarified. "I'll even lend you another one of my shirts to sleep in."

"Actually, I bought new pajamas at the store."

"Then you'll stay?"

"You win. But only for tonight."

_We'll see about that_. Mac thought to himself as he tightened his arms around Stella. The gears in his head started turning as he started planning his strategy to get her to share his home. With Stella a direct assault was doomed to failure. It would have to be a more subtle campaign.


	5. Chapter 5

For the second time in as many days, Stella found herself awakening to the rays of the morning sun instead of the sound of her alarm clock. This morning, instead of an afghan to lull her back to sleep she had a surprisingly comfortable bed tempting her to sleep in. After finally agreeing to stay the night Stella and Mac had stayed up until well after midnight. Mac, still determined to help her find a place, had pulled out his laptop. After determining there was nothing promising in the immediate area, Stella had jokingly suggested she should just chuck it all and move to Alaska. Juneau had a higher per capita crime rate then New York, so it might be a good career choice. Ever the helpful friend, Mac had started punching up real estate listings in Alaska, and from there it had just gotten downright silly. The bottle of wine they shared between them hadn't helped matters any and they were consumed by laughter as they attempted to find the most bizarre listings. After deciding that she probably had missed her calling as a sheep herder and could buy a ranch in the boondocks, they had called it a night. She smiled to herself as she pulled the fluffy comforter up around her shoulders and rolled over so her back was to the window. It would be easy to doze back off for a minute or two and she closed her eyes. The smell of coffee soon tickled her nostrils, drawing her back to consciousness. For a few moments the warm embrace of the bed and the lure of coffee warred for her attention. Finally she pushed back the blankets and swung her feet to the floor. With a yawn worthy of a hippopotamus she stretched her arms and then ran her fingers through her tangled curls trying to tame them into some semblance of order. Giving in to wakefulness Stella stood and rummaged through the pile of bags from her shopping trip yesterday until she located the robe that she had purchased. She shrugged into the knee length kimono style garment and belted it loosely at her waist. Smothering another yawn she opened the door and padded out into the hallway. The door to Mac's room was open and appeared empty so she turned her steps towards the kitchen. A quick glance in the kitchen, living room, and dining room did not reveal his presence. Was it possible that he had gone out?

"Mac?" she called uncertainly.

"I'm out here," Mac's voice answered from the balcony. Stella had missed the fact that the French doors were cracked open.

Stella chuckled to herself as she remembered Mac's confession yesterday that he rarely went out on his balcony. With a shake of her head she pushed open the door to step outside. "I thought you never came out. . ." Her words trailed off as she caught sight of what was awaiting her. While she was busy lazing in bed, Mac had been industrious. She recognized the two chairs that had been brought out here as chairs from the dining room. They were placed on either side of a small square table which was draped with what looked like an antique square of lace lying diagonally across it. She wasn't quite sure where the table came from as she thought she would have noticed if one was missing from the house. On top was spread out a simple breakfast of fresh fruit and croissants. Sitting square in the center of the table was her impromptu vase of daisies. Mac was reading something on his laptop, but he closed the lid and put it to the side when he saw her.

"Good morning," he smiled at her and handed her a cup of coffee. "It should still be warm." Mac's hair was mussed from sleeping, and his face was still scruffy.

"Morning," she replied taking the cup of coffee and sipping slowly at it. "When did you find time to do this?" Stella asked in wonderment. Mac's eyes followed her as she slipped into the chair opposite him.

"It didn't take long," he shrugged. "I wake up early. You were sound asleep, so I figured I'd get breakfast together."

Stella fingered the lace gracing the table. "You don't have a vase but you have an antique lace table cloth?"

"It was my grandmother's. It came over from Ireland with them. When Claire and I got married she gave it me, told me to keep it in the Taylor family."

"Now I'm afraid I'll spill something."

"Don't be. I wouldn't have pulled it out if I was worried about it."

"Why did you pull it out then?"

Mac picked up the edge of the table cloth, "I had to put a couple of TV trays together to make the table." Stella peeked under the table cloth and saw how he had propped them together. "I needed something to make it look like a table instead of just a couple of trays."

"It worked," she smiled over the rim of her coffee cup. "You had me fooled." She chewed thoughtfully on a croissant. "Why go through all the trouble?"

"Yesterday you pointed out my lack of patio furniture. I thought I'd try it out and see if I liked it out here before I invested the money."

"And your verdict?"

"The jury's still out, but early indicators are favorable." Stella looked around at the patio.

"You'd be able to fit a nice bistro table out here and still have room for one of those chaise lounges and an end table." She glanced meaningfully at the laptop balanced at the edge of the table. "This way you could be comfortable when you're working on you day off."

Mac leaned back in his chair and stared contemplatively at his coffee, "Who says I was working?"

"If I open that laptop," Stella tossed her hair, and stretched out a hand, "am I going to see something other than your email or case documents?" Mac had the good grace to look sheepish.

"Danny called and asked me to look over a few things. The DA wants the case for the Cabbie Killer pulled together as quickly as possible."

"You never take a day off, do you?" _Unless you're strong-armed into running off to London_.

"I did yesterday," Mac countered.

"You still went in for the press conference."

"I had to."

Stella sighed, "I know. I just worry about you."

"I'm not the only one who's a workaholic."

Stella shot him a dirty look, "Someone needs to make sure you remember to eat and sleep."

"Let's agree that we're dedicated professionals."

"Who could probably stand a vacation."

"I had six weeks of vacation last I checked, and I've most likely accrued more." Mac observed casually.

Stella blinked at him in confusion. "Wait, you're actually thinking about taking a vacation? Twice in the same year?" she asked in surprise. "Wow."

"Only if you join me," Stella's eyes widened in even bigger shock. Mac pretended not to notice and continued with his breakfast. "Someone has to make sure I remember to eat and sleep," he teased.

"Okay," she said slowly, putting down her fork. "Where would we go?"

Mac shrugged, "I haven't gotten that far yet." He paused for a moment, "Maybe Alaska," he continued solemnly. "We could check out some real estate." Stella made a face and tried not to laugh but failed. They were still laughing when Mac's phone began to vibrate on the table.

"Taylor," Mac said as he put the Blackberry to his ear, trying to sound professional. Subconsciously he had straightened in his seat entering 'Head of the Lab' mode. An image of him sitting behind his desk trying to look imposing in his t-shirt and sweats, hair rumpled and face unshaven filled her mind. The image was so ridiculous that she started giggling again. She picked up her napkin to try to stop herself from laughing. Mac bit his lip in an attempt to keep himself from joining in.

***********************************************************************************

"Am I interrupting something, Mac?" Don Flack asked the man at the other end of the phone.

"No, just having breakfast," Mac replied, his voice sounding strangled. The curious sound of muffled laughter came over the phone. Feminine laughter. Familiar feminine laughter. It sounded like Stella was still with Mac. Interesting.

"You're sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure," Mac sounded like he was trying to keep himself from laughing.

"O-kay then," he said. "The brass just contacted Reed about coming in for a statement. They want to move quickly on this one. I thought you should know."

The laughter left his voice. "Who has lead on this?"

"I requested it," Don lowered his voice and promised, "I'll take care of him, Mac."

"Thank you, Don," he was silent for a long moment, "Julia found out about our relationship."

"I know. That's why I requested lead. She said, and I quote, you were 'too close to the witness'."

"What time?" Mac's voice was all business. The clink of dishes indicated that breakfast was over.

"He's coming in for one."

"I'll be there. Thanks again, Don. I owe you."

*************************************************************************************

Stella observed Mac's face change from one of amusement to seriousness in a matter of moments. She's not sure what Don was telling him, but she suspected it had to do with Reed. Taking a few final bites Stella finished up her breakfast. When Mac hung up the phone Stella gave him an inquiring stare.

"They've asked Reed to come down to make his statement." He busied himself collecting the breakfast dishes. Stella joined him and they made quick work clearing the table. "I need to be there, even if I can't be in the room."

"I can be ready in 45 minutes." Stella replied trailing Mac back into the apartment and towards the kitchen.

Mac turned to look at her, "You don't have to do that, Stell."

Stella smiled in return and placed her hand on Mac's arm, "I know. I want to." Mac placed the dishes he was carrying in the sink, and then took the ones Stella was carrying and did the same.

"Flip you for who gets the shower first?" he asked with an answering smile.

"Race you for it!" Stella countered and headed for the door. She made it half way down the hall before Mac grabbed her wrist and spun her around. With a thud she landed flat against his chest. Mac rocked back on his heels from the impact and then wrapped his free arm around her waist to steady them, effectively trapping her. "Hey!" she protested, squirming against him. "Not fair!"

"Fair?" Mac asked raising an eyebrow. Stella struggled against him, and he tightened his arms around her waist. Her head tilted up to glower at him. "Says the one who changed the rules."

"Suggested an alternative," she countered, tossing her curls back over her shoulders.

"More like dictated. I didn't get the chance to respond."

"You're faster than me, and my hair takes forever to dry."

Mac loosened his grip so that she was still circled in his arms, but could step away if she wanted to. Stella took a half step backwards so there was now a few inches of space between them.

"I can't argue with that. Go ahead," he paused. "But you'll have to pay the penalty."

Stella reached out and put her hand in the center of Mac's chest. She moved closer to him and asked playfully, "And what would you have me do?" Her eyes were bright, her robe falling off her shoulders revealing the satiny tank top and shorts she termed pajamas, and he couldn't help but think of several ways he could answer that question. With a conscious effort he took a slow, deep breath and pushed those thoughts to the side for the moment. He leaned close to her, the stubble on his face rubbing against her cheek as he whispered in her ear, "You have to do the dishes."

Stella let out a cross between a snort and a giggle and gave him a firm push with the hand that was resting on his chest. Mac had not been expecting that reaction and stepped back from the force of the shove. "That's it?" Stella laughed. She seemed . . .peeved. . .or disappointed, maybe? She turned on her heel and headed down the hallway with a swish of her hips. As she reached the door to his room she paused and turned in the doorway, "I would have chosen something," she paused for emphasis before continuing, "more interesting." Mac stared after her for a long moment. If he wasn't mistaken, Stella Bonasera was flirting with him.

*************************************************************************************

In his professional career, Mac had conducted countless interviews with witness, and observed hundreds more. He'd heard witnesses describing in detail their own personal hells: victims of rape, child abuse, incest, murder, assault. Ordinary people that had the extraordinary experience of witnessing a crime. There were those that yelled and those that wept, those that remained calm and those that seethed with anger, and those that lied and those that told the bald truth, no matter how painful. After all of those experiences it could be argued that Mac was prepared for anything. During his years on the force he'd heard it all, and nothing surprised him. But today, he was finding it hard to remain the calm, detached professional that he prided himself on.

Flack was conducting the interview along with one of the ADA's and another detective. True to his promise, Flack was making the process as painless as possible. Sheets of paper literally littered the table as Reed was finding it easier to write out the answers to the detective's questions then to speak. Angela and Kevin Garrett had accompanied their son to the station, determined to give him the support that they felt Reed needed. From his angle Mac couldn't make out a whole lot of the words on the paper, but those that he did see made him shake with anger. His hands balled into fists at his side and he knew that it was a good thing that their suspect was locked up already.

"We got him, Mac," Stella reassured him as she joined him at the window. She had left a little while earlier when Reed's parents had been ushered out of the room. Their presence was making the process more difficult as Reed was concerned about hurting them with the naked truth of the situation. Stella had gone out to check on them in the waiting area. Mac didn't say anything in return but his eyes said thank you. Stella slipped her hand between his arm and body so that her fingers rested on his forearm rubbing against the sleeve of his suit jacket in a comforting way. He stepped closer to her so that their hips were touching, taking comfort in her warm presence. Mac felt his fist unfurl and the shaking in his hands subsided. With his opposite hand Mac reached over and placed his hand on top of hers. Finally tearing his eyes away from the scene in the conference room, Mac looked over at Stella and the look that passed between them said more than words alone could. Gently, Mac shook Stella's hand from his forearm and wrapped his arm around her waist instead, pulling her up against him.

"How are the Garretts?" Mac finally asked.

"As well as can be. I got them some coffee and settled them in the waiting area. Angela's stopped crying. The want to help, but they're not sure how."

"Reed's made of strong stuff, like his mother," Mac replied. "From what I can see of his statement, he's highly observant." _More observant than I'd like,_ he thought to himself

"That's good for us then," Stella countered. "Case should be ironclad."

"It's a good thing the suspect is already locked up. I'd kill him."

"It's hard to stay detached when it's someone you care about," Stella observed as she tucked her head against his shoulder. The two fell silent and continued watching the proceedings through the mirror. It appeared that the process was winding down.

"I would have killed Frankie." Mac finally said, the tone of his voice deadly. Stella stiffened slightly against him. "When we came to your apartment and I saw you. . . I thought you were dead." He took a deep breath before continuing, "Then I realized what had happened. I saw red," Mac grimaced and half turned to face Stella, still keeping his arm around her. "Before that I'd always thought that was just a colorful literary term."

"Mac," Stella started, but she couldn't finish the phrase. After a few moments she finally settled for a joke. "I think you'll have to accept you're stuck with me."

"I can think of worse things, Stell," a ghost of a smile appeared on his face. "Of course, that means you're also stuck with me. And I think I got the better end of the deal." He tugged her gently to him pulling her into a hug. She sighed softly and snuggled against him enjoying the security of being wrapped in his arms. Mac rested his cheek against the top of her head, the soft curls tickling his nose. He closed his eyes as he inhaled the scent of her and wondered at how right she felt in his arms. The sound of familiar footsteps approaching caught his attention. Stella straightened up, obviously hearing the same sound as he.

"Hey, Mac, I have someone here who wants to talk to you," Flack called as he turned the corner. If he thought it unusual to find Mac's arms wrapped around Stella he made no sign. Stella's cheeks were tinged with pink and she looked uncertainly at Don. Mac, on the other hand, acted as if nothing was out of the ordinary, about the situation. _And maybe it isn't_, Flack thought to himself filing the scene away in a mental file.

"Reed," Mac replied glancing past the detective at another familiar face. Reed was standing right behind Flack, grinning at Mac and Stella. The two disentangled themselves, Stella busying herself with smoothing her hair. Reed caught Mac's eye and exchanged an inquiring glance with him. Mac quirked an eyebrow in response, his glance expressing the thought_, think what you like_.Flack observed the byplay and determined that there was definitely something going on that he wasn't aware of. Although he had warned Danny to mind his own business, Flack found himself succumbing to the same curiosity.


	6. Chapter 6

"I see you brought your fan club with you tonight, Taylor." Allen, the lead guitarist from his band, called peeking out on the stage. The detective rolled his eyes at his friend and busied himself with his bass.

"It wasn't my idea," he commented in lieu of an explanation. In fact, he would have been hard pressed to figure out whose idea it was in the first place. After Reed had given his statement to the police, his parents had asked for the opportunity to meet the people who had saved their son. Mac had offered to take them up to the lab to meet the key members of his team that had worked on the case. In their line of work it was rare that they saved someone, more often than not they brought a perpetrator to justice to bring closure to those left behind. The Garretts had been warm and gracious to each member of the team thanking them personally for their contributions. Reed had asked pointed questions about the equipment in the lab and its uses. Although they couldn't specifically discuss the evidence in the case, they could explain the basic use and functions of the varied machinery. Adam, used to being the low man on the totem pole was excited to show how he had traced the signal from Reed's blog to triangulate on his location. Someone mentioned they should go out for drinks to celebrate the wrap up of the major case. It was fairly common for the team to do this after a particularly stressful case. The idea was met with instant approval by the team. When Mac attempted to make his excuses as he had a gig that evening, the team simply decided to meet at the club where Mac was playing that night. The Garretts were thrilled to be invited when Danny had reached out to them and invited them to join them as well.

After that the impromptu get together had taken on a life of its own. Besides the core members of the team, a variety of lab techs, the detectives that had worked the case including Angell, as well as Sid and a few others from the ME's office had joined them. The large and now somewhat rowdy group was filling the club to an unprecedented level. The NYPD overflowed the table that Stella, the Garrets and Don had originally staked out and now the group occupied a growing number of tables in the club. The manager had been thrilled when he saw the stream of people filter in as it was no doubt going to be good for business.

"What's the occasion?" Allen asked as he busied himself with his own instrument getting ready for their first set.

"The end of a big case," Mac answered vaguely. He didn't talk about work here. This was his escape from the stress of his daily responsibilities and it was odd to him the two were colliding together tonight.

"Ah, the Taxi Cab case. I saw you on TV." Mac didn't reply. "I know you said you were a cop, but the head of the Crime Lab?"

"And you told me you were a teacher, not the head of the Anthropology Department at Columbia, Doctor."

"Touché," he laughed. "Are we going to try out the new song you wrote tonight?"

"Um," Mac stalled. He glanced out at the crowd; Stella was seated front and center where she could have an unimpeded view of the stage. Reed was seated next to her, scribbling in a notepad and Stella's head was bent down over it. Mac watched her put her arm around Reed in a reassuring gesture and then scribble back to him on the notepad. The noise level was already pretty high so writing might actually be a more effective form of communication. She paused in her 'conversation' with Reed and her eyes met Mac's. It was as if she sensed his eyes upon her. Stella smiled at him, in a way that he hoped was reserved for him. Then an impish grin spread across her face and she blew a kiss in his direction. Mac smiled back at her, shaking his head at her playful gesture. "Not tonight." Mac answered finally.

"Oh, she's here then, isn't she?" Allen teased scanning the crowd. He had missed the byplay between Mac and his partner a few moments earlier.

"I don't know what you mean," Mac countered, his voice taking on its usual authority.

"The one the song's about," Allen insisted, "Which one is she?"

"Who says it's about a woman?"

"Friend, it's always about a woman, isn't it?" Mac muttered something under his breath. "Don't worry, by the end of tonight, I'll have it figured out."

* * *

"Why haven't we come here before?" Flack asked as he walked back to the table Stella had staked out, a round of drinks in his hands.

"It's a little further away from the lab than our usual haunts," Stella observed.

"Yeah, but we should have come see Mac before," Flack continued handing out the drinks to the occupants of the table.

"I've been here before," Stella observed.

"He invite you?"

"No, I just knew where to find him." Stella suppressed the memory of last time she had come to watch Mac play. It had been after she had found Peyton's letter on his desk. "I think Lindsay's been here, too." She glanced over to where the younger CSI was seated with Danny at a table for two. The two had their heads close together, a flirtatious smile on both of their faces. "Are they back together again?"

Flack shrugged expressively, "Depends on the day. Tonight I'd say yes."

"That sounds promising," Jess Angell interrupted as she slipped in between Don and Stella. "What exactly would you say yes, too?"

"Why don't you try me and find out?" Don countered grinning ear to ear. Stella shook her head and muttered to herself about something in the water. Flack and Angell, Danny and Lindsay. And whatever 'this' was going on between her and Mac.

She sighed to herself and stared up at the stage as the band began to play. Taking the drink that Don had brought for her she sipped at it absently as she pondered her thoughts. Why did life have to be so complicated? She glanced over at Don and Jess, and Danny and Lindsay. The four of them seemed to be testing the "what ifs" of their relationships. Stella had been through such a run of bad luck with men, she considered swearing off of them completely. She scowled down into her cup. Reed nudged her gently with his elbow, "You okay?" he mouthed at her.

Stella smiled half heartedly in reply, her gaze glancing over at Don and Angell again. If something wasn't going on between the two of them it soon would be. Reed squeezed her hand sympathetically.

"Thanks," Stella said. Reed pulled over the notepad and started to write.

_It's hard to be alone when those around you are in love._

"You're wise for your years, Reed."

_Only observant, _he grinned back at her. _Why did you never marry?_

"Still waiting for Mr. Right I guess," she said with a laugh trying to diffuse the situation.

_Waiting for him to arrive, or to notice?_

Stella read the words twice, making sure she had read them correctly the first time. For a long moment she stared at Reed. His gaze met hers unwaveringly. Over the years there had been rumors and speculation about her and Mac, even before Claire had died. People had a hard time understanding how people of the opposite gender could be friends and not be sleeping together. Usually she just laughed them off and explained how they were good friends. But after the last few days, the friend line was getting blurred between them. She had been surprised when Mac drew her into his arms in the precinct earlier today and hadn't let her go even when Flack arrived. Most of all he had seemed unconcerned as if it was the most natural thing in the world. And in truth it had felt like the most natural thing in the world. In the last two days, Mac had initiated more physical contact between them then she could remember. All the feelings she had thought long safely repressed where starting to come to the surface again, and she wasn't sure what to do.

Stella chewed on her lip thoughtfully. Uncertain how to answer the question, like a good cop, she countered with a question of her own. Ever since she had caught a glimpse of the note pad in Mac' living room the words had haunted her: _I didn't think Stella was Claire just because she left your apartment that one time. I saw you together._

_Why did you follow me? _She scribbled quickly on the paper.

_I thought you were Claire._

"Why?" Stella blurted out, drawing curious looks from the other occupants of the table.

_It's the way you look at each other. You don't need words. My parents are like that. _Reed pointed at the stage where Mac's band was finishing up their first song. As the song ended, Mac glanced over at her and shrugged slightly as if to say, _what did you think?_ Stella gave him the thumbs up in return. The corner of his mouth turned up slightly, as if he might smile and his posture relaxed slightly.

"Hey, he's pretty good!" Flack interjected as the assembled crowd applauded enthusiastically.

"He was embarrassed that we were all coming here tonight," Stella responded as she added her own applause.

"Why?" Angell asked, turning to face Stella.

"Mac's a private person," she shrugged. "But you can tell he's feeling better about it now."

"How?" Flack asked.

Stella looked at Flack as if to say, 'you call yourself a detective'. "See how his body posture is more relaxed now, and around his eyes it's like they're smiling." Flack gave Stella a look as if to say, 'if you say so.'

_My point exactly. _Reed scribbled.

"How long were you following me?"

Reed just grinned sheepishly, _long enough_.

The group turned back to the stage and enjoyed the performance the conversation turning to general chit chat about the band and other mundane topics. When the first set concluded the band put up their instruments to take a quick break. Mac headed down to the café floor with Allen trailing behind. Allen stopped by the bar for a drink while Mac slowly made his way to the table where his team was sitting. Several other patrons had stopped them on their way to compliment them on their performance.

"Got room for more?" Mac asked as he approached the table. In a seamless dance, the group made room at the table. Angell and Flack scooted their chairs closer towards where Sid and his wife were sitting as they all slid their chairs closer together. Hawkes, who had just gotten up to get the next round from the bar, snagged a spare chair from the table behind them and slipped it in between Stella and Angell. With a thank you to Hawkes, Mac eased himself into the chair next to Stella. His leg rubbed against hers as he sat. "You were fantastic," she whispered before kissing Mac impulsively on the cheek. Surreptitiously Stella slid her hand across the table brushing hers against her partner's. Mac turned towards Stella and mumbled an embarrassed 'thank you'. Their eyes met for a long moment and Mac covered Stella's hand with his own, his thumb making a slow, lazy, circle on the palm of her hand. The rest of the team's enthusiastic praise flowed around him and he nodded in general acceptance.

Hawkes waded up to the and gave the bartender the order for the lengthy order for the next round of drinks for the team. He leaned on the bar as he watched the bartender start pulling their order together.

"You're part of Mac Taylor's team, aren't you," a voice from his left asked. Sheldon turned to see the lead guitarist of the band sitting next to him.

Hawes nodded his head in the affirmative, "Sheldon Hawkes of the New York City Crime Lab." He extended his hand to the other man. "And you would be part of Mac's band."

"Guilty as charged. I'm Allen Manderson," he replied returning the handshake.

"It's a pleasure to meet you. I've enjoyed you music tonight. Nice way to relax after a long few days."

"Mac says you just wrapped up a big case."

"That's why we're here tonight. Of course most of us didn't know Mac played. Stella and Lindsay knew, and apparently the doc, too."

"Interesting," Allen observed stroking the close cropped beard he sported. Sheldon raised an eyebrow at Allen. "I'm an anthropologist by profession. Group dynamics fascinate me. I'm intrigued as to why those three are the only ones who new Mac's 'secret'."

Sheldon shrugged, "Mac's a private person. He doesn't open up a whole lot."

Allen glanced over at the table and watched the interplay of Mac and his team. The bartender returned bringing Sheldon the drinks ordered.

"Do you need a hand carry that?" Allen asked inclining his head towards the assorted glasses and bottles.

"Thanks," Sheldon said pushing a few of the drinks over. "Next round!" Sheldon called as they approached the table. There was a flurry of movement as drinks were passed around to the correct people. "Look who I met at the bar," Sheldon said to Mac as he placed the drinks down in front of his boss.

"Allen, pull up a chair and meet my team." There was a shuffling of chairs again as everyone made room at a table that was already exceeding maximum capacity. The shuffling turned to laughter as they realized there were no empty chairs to be had. Adam stood up offering his chair to the newest arrival. The newcomer slipped into the chair between Sid and Kevin Garrett.

"Sitting next to you is our ME Dr. Sid Hammerback and his wife Cheryl. On the other side is Kevin Garrett, his wife Angela and their son Reed. They're . . .friends of ours. To my left are Detectives Don Flack and Jessica Angell from the precinct, and you've already met Hawkes at the bar. The one who offered you his chair is Adam Ross, one of our lab techs." All parties exchanged the murmured polite greetings and head nods as they were introduced. "And this," Mac said with a smile, turning to face his partner, "is Stella Bonasera."

"It's a pleasure to meet all of you. Mac speaks about 'his team' frequently."

"Funny, he hasn't mentioned you to us before," Flack observed dryly.

"I'm not sure if I should be insulted or not," Allen laughed taking a swig of his beer.

Mac just shrugged, "It never came up."

"It never came up," Flack muttered into a drink. The group exchanged friendly conversation before Mac and Allen headed back up to the stage for their second set. Mac gave Stella's hand a squeeze as he left to return to the stage.

After the final set, the band went backstage and packed up their instruments. One by one they said their farewells and disappeared into the night. Finally only Mac and Allen remained.

"The kid at the table tonight, Reed. He was the one I heard about on the TV. The one your team saved."

Mac hesitated for a moment and then nodded his head. "You have a great team, Mac. Thank you for introducing me. You should have them come again sometime."

"Now that my 'secret's' out I probably won't be able to avoid it."

"See ya next week, Mac," Allen slapped him on the back and headed for the door. He turned back in the door, "Stella," he said cryptically.

"Is she waiting?" Mac asked, as he hurried to gather his belongings.

Allen craned his head around the corner. "Yeah, she's still there." Mac tried to suppress the smile on his face as he walked to the door.

"If you didn't know she was there, why'd you say her name."

"The song. She's the one the song's about."

Mac just raised an eyebrow.

"When you came to the table everyone immediately made room for you to sit. The spot they cleared was right next to Stella. It was a fact generally understood by the group that that was your spot. When they went to make room for me, it was a far more confused effort. No one was sure which way to push."

"She's my partner, we tend to sit together."

"You didn't introduce her as your partner. Everyone else you defined by their professional relationship to you. With Stella it was like she was a part of you."

Silence.

"See you next week, Allen."

Allen gave him a mock salute and headed out the door.

Mac walked slowly back out into the café his bass case gripped tightly in one hand, his suit jacket tossed over the opposite shoulder. Most of the patrons had gone home and the staff was cleaning up the debris from the night's crowd. Stella was seated at the same table, alone, the rest of the team having gone home. There were only two glasses left on the table, one half empty. Her blazer was draped over the back of the chair. The air conditioning hadn't managed to stay ahead of the summer heat and he assumed she was more comfortable in the strappy coral tank she was wearing. Stella turned at the sound of footsteps. Upon seeing who it was a smile spread across her face. Using her foot she pushed the chair next to her out from the table.

"You waited," Mac observed as he placed his instrument case on the floor.

"You have my key." She countered. Mac reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet. A sheepish smile played about his lips.

"I must have left it back at my place, Stell," he lowered himself into the chair that Stella had pushed out for him.

"You don't live too far," she pushed the full glass over to Mac. He gratefully took a sip. "I can just pick it up and catch a cab back."

Mac glanced down at his watch. "It's past midnight already, Stell."

"Sleep is overrated," Stella countered with a grin, as she emptied her glass.

"We can argue about it on the way back to my place." Mac drained his glass and stood up.

He draped his jacket over the arm carrying his bass case and extended his now empty hand to Stella. For a moment she stared at his hand before slowly extended her hand and slipping it into his. With a gentle tug, Mac pulled her to her feet. Hand in hand the two started the short stroll back to his place. The summer arm was balmy, but the light breeze that always seems to blow through the canyons of Manhattan kept the air from becoming oppressive. Stella turned her face into the breeze, her long curls blowing back behind her and bouncing against Mac's shoulder. Mac stared over at her, enjoying watching her enjoy the evening. One by one, he disentangled his fingers from hers. She turned her head to face Mac, her eyes expressing confusion at the loss of contact. Gently he brushed her hair back from her shoulder and slid his hand across her shoulders, wrapping his arm around her. Stella's green eyes widen and linked with Mac's blue. After a long moment she wrapped her arm around Mac's waist.

"I thought we were supposed to be arguing about where I was spending the night. Is this a diversionary tactic?" Stella asked playfully.

"Not yet," Mac countered cryptically.

The two walked down the street their footsteps falling easily into a rhythm that kept them walking smoothly together. After a few moments they arrived in front of his building.

"Say you'll stay, Stella. If you insist on going home, I'll have to go with you. That's sleep I'd be missing out on, and you're always telling me to get more sleep." Mac slid his arm from her shoulder to rest lightly on her waist.

"I don't know, Mac. . ." Stella said uncertainly.

"It's late," he continued, "we both have to be in at 8 tomorrow morning."

"True. . . but still."

"It's not like you don't have anything to wear," Mac teased. "You bought half the store we were at yesterday."

Stella hesitated and looked as if she was about to say something then stopped. She frowned slightly and looked down at the pavement.

"What's wrong?" Mac asked. With one finger he caressed the side of her cheek. When he came to her chin he gently tilted her face up towards his.

"I," she tried to avoid his gaze. "Why is this so important to you?"

"It's purely selfish, Stella. . . these last few days I've enjoyed having someone to come home to."

"I've never had someone to come home to. It's been years since I've had someone care if I came home at night."

"I care, Stella." In a slow, deliberate motion Mac placed his bass case on the ground, his jacket crumpling in a heap on top. He paused for a long moment and placed his hands on her shoulders. Softly he brushed her hair away from her face before sliding his hands to her shoulders. "More than you know," Stella's eyes widened at her partner's confession. His gaze was intense upon her as he tugged her closer. Stella came willingly to him, mesmerized by the moment, her chin tilting upwards. Her eyes fluttered closed as Mac's lips brushed against hers tentatively. Instinctively, her hand went up to caress the side of his face pulling his lips to hers again. The second kiss was sweeter, intoxicating. Stella's fingers snaked into Mac's hair as Mac wrapped her in his arms.

"I care, too, Mac," Stella whispered against his cheek.

"Stay with me, Stella," he insisted as he rubbed his hands up her back and tangled them in her silken curls. " Just one more night."

"One more night," she echoed as the pair headed for the door.


	7. Chapter 7

Author's Note:

This fanfiction ended up bleeding into other episodes of season 4/5. I don't have them on DVD so I only had my memories to rely on. If there are inaccuracies, consider it artistic license. As it progresses there will be slight deviations from the episodes.

Thank you to all of you that have reviewed! Please keep the feedback coming, I appreciate it.

Stella hummed softy to herself as she strolled the short distance from the elevator to her office. Hawkes had volunteered to take the evidence they had collected at the morning's scene down to the lab. From the few minutes Stella had seen of her office that morning before getting called out to the B&E with Hawkes she knew there was plenty of paperwork piled up waiting for her. 'One of the benefits of being a supervisor, the paperwork was unending', she thought to herself. Although, it could be worse, when Mac and she had arrived that morning, his desk had been piled high with folders and papers. A quick glance at his inbox had listed 57 emails awaiting his attention, all marked 'priority'. "The price of two days off," Mac had quipped with a sigh. When the call for a CSI had come in, it was unspoken that Stella would be the one headed out to the Upper East Side. With a promise to catch up for lunch, Stella had passed by her office before heading out to join her colleague at the scene.

Despite the large amount of papers awaiting both Mac's, as well as her own attention, she couldn't be upset. Last night, Mac had surprised her by kissing her at the door to his building. The toe- tingling kiss had been completely unexpected. Not to be confused with unwelcome. He'd said he'd cared for her, and well she cared about him, too. She'd cared about him for too many years. When they had finally broken the kiss, Mac had simply taken his hand in hers and headed into the building. The elevator ride had been silent, Stella nervously wondering what the kiss meant for their relationship. Mac was simply smiling enigmatically. Would he kiss her again? Did she want to kiss him again? Did he think she'd be sharing his bed tonight? Why was she thinking about sharing his bed? What would she say? What would he do? What was going on? Her mind was flooded with these, and a thousand more questions.

In the end, Stella's nervous ruminations were for naught. When they arrived at his apartment, Mac had let them in and dropped his things in the hall. He'd apologized for not having an extra alarm clock and asked Stella what time she wanted to be woken up for work. Mac had paused in front of the door to his guest room. Stella had glanced up him uncertainly, not sure what was going to happen next. His blue eyes studied her green ones for a long moment. Unconsciously, she held her breath waiting, no hoping, he'd kiss her again. Finally, he whispered, "Goodnight, Stella," in a low voice. After that he'd kissed her gently on the cheek and released her hand. She had stared after him for a long moment before finally letting herself into the guest room and climbing into bed. Stella had stayed awake staring at the ceiling for a long while, wondering about Mac's unusual behavior the last few days, and what it meant. Except that the behavior didn't seem unusual. More like a logical progression of their friendship. Stella thought about Mac's statement, that he liked having her to come home to.

Home for her had always been a sanctuary, a place to isolate herself from the world. It was one of the reasons she didn't allow men at her place. It was a safe haven, in case a date went bad, or was more intense that she would have liked. A place of solitary reflection, where she could escape from the harsh realities of the world. Of course, she had found out the hard way that the idea of safety and security were merely illusions. First with the disaster with Frankie, and more recently with the fire. Both had cost her the sense of safety she felt in her own home. If she was honest with herself, it was one of the reasons she was reluctant to try again, for she feared to build up the illusion of security only to have it shattered. The last few days, she'd seen the other possibility of what a home could be. A place of laughter and warmth, of camaraderie and deep discussions. There was something appealing domestic about cooking dinner for more than one, for flopping on the couch to watch nothing at all, and the flutter of anticipation when you hear the door open knowing someone you care for is home. And yes, even sharing a home with someone, home could be a place of safety, too. Mac was right when he said she was felt safe with him. Despite the inherent risk in their profession, she was never afraid when they were side by side. In fact, she couldn't remember a time when she had been in danger when they were together. Somehow their individual strength was multiplied when together. In addition to physical security, she knew that she was emotionally safe with him as well. Mac would never knowingly hurt her. All of her secrets she'd chosen to share, she'd shared with him. Her definition of home was changing and it was that which had caused her to hum and contemplate possibilities she wouldn't have considered even three months earlier.

With a thud she placed her case by the edge of her desk and studied the piles of papers on her desk. As people had dropped them off they had attempted to be neat. However they had become so numerous that there were no longer any clear places on her desk. Sighing, she pulled out her chair to settle in and tackle the monumental task at hand. On her chair was a manila envelope with her name written on it in a familiar scrawl. Curious, she unfastened the envelope. Carefully, she shook out the contents onto her desk. A familiar keycard landed on the desk with a click followed by a metallic thud as a pair of silver keys landed on top. Last, but not least a plain piece of computer paper fluttered out. Stella picked it up to find that it was a handwritten note:

_Stell--_

_ I was called out to a scene. The details were vague when it was called in, so I'm not sure when I'll be back. Here's the keys to my place in case I don't get back before you're ready to go home. I had them made for you, so they're yours to keep. I also put in the key to your hotel so I don't forget again. If I miss lunch, I'll take you to dinner. Sorry._

_ --Mac_

Stella stared at the note for a long moment before getting her purse to put the keys away. She snatched up the plastic key and shoved it in her wallet. The metal keys glinted on her desk. The set was obviously new, there were no nicks or scratches to indicate wear, or that they had ever been used. In passing she wondered if Peyton had had a set of keys and they were in London somewhere which was why he had a new set made. She shook off the slight stab of jealousy she had at the thought and dropped the set of keys into her purse. Taking a deep breath she turned her attention to the piles of papers adorning the flat surfaces in her office and started working on them.

It was a welcome interruption when her phone rang forty five minutes later. Flack needed her at a scene ASAP. Without a backwards glance to the paperwork she was abandoning she headed for the door, stopping only long enough to grab what she needed. Soon enough she was meeting the Irish detective outside a bank. The place was crawling with police vehicles and the SWAT team. A quick scan of the crowd determined that it was Mac's Avalanche parked off to one side. Stella thought back to the note left on her desk, 'details were vague' 'not sure when I'll be back'. With a sense of dread she asked Flack the question she wasn't sure she wanted an answer to, "Where's Mac?"

Don's succinct answer confirmed her fears that Mac had knowingly put himself in harm's way again. _The man has a hero complex_, she thought with some exasperation. She allowed herself one moment of worry. One moment of fear for Mac's safety. Then she was all business. In Mac's absence she was in charge of the investigation and the rest of the team would be looking to her for leadership in order to achieve a successful resolution. The rest of the day she pushed her personal feelings aside, acknowledging them only briefly to her friend, Brent Dunbar, at Homeland Security. He had picked up on the feelings that she was fighting to repress and yes, worried sick was probably a colossal understatement.

When the suspect, who identified himself only as Joe, finally made his move out of the bank, taking Mac as a hostage it was a grateful nod that she acknowledged Flack's statement about the helicopter waiting for them. After the unmarked police car pulled out into traffic, Stella and Flack walked to their waiting ride wanting to give the suspect a bit of a head start.

"Hey," Flack said with concern, touching Stella's shoulder gently. "We're going to find him, you know that right?"

"Of course we are," Stella said with bravado. She knew they would. NYPD was one of the finest and one of their own was at risk, they would not stop until it was over. Stella made the mistake of turning to face Don and offering him a reassuring smile. His blue eyes were shadowed with the same trepidation that she felt in the pit of her stomach. Without looking, she was sure that they were a mirror of her own. On the exterior he was all business, confident in the abilities of his team and colleagues to bring about a satisfactory outcome. In a way the two of them were in the same position, Stella leading her team of CSI's, Flack the uniforms and coordinating with SWAT. Neither of them was in a position to project anything other than an aura of calm assurance, but they had known each other long enough that they could see past each other's façade.

"I'm worried, too," Flack reached around to give her a quick, reassuring hug. Stella squeezed him back and let out a deep sigh, "Thanks, Don." With that they had turned back to business and boarded the helicopter that was waiting for them.

The next few hours were spent in the air looking for the intentionally unremarkable car that the suspect had forced Mac to drive away in. There search had taken them out over the Hudson once they had determined that the car was last sighted headed over one of the bridges into Jersey. The sun was glinting off the murky waters of the great river, making it hard to make out any sort of detail. Over the din of the helicopter's rotors she managed to hear her cell phone ring. Assuming it was one of her team, she pulled the phone loose from her pocket. It was with some confusion that she saw the name, "Salinas, Lauren" pop on her cell phone's caller id. Unsure who it was she answered the call only to hear a familiar voice.

"Stell?" Mac asked uncertainly.

"Mac! You okay?"

"Yeah," he drawled, his speech slightly slurred. "I'm in Jersey."

"Where?" Stella had demanded to know as she signaled the pilot to head towards Jersey. In a matter of minutes they had notified Jersey City PD. Emergency Services from the NJ side beat them to the site. By the time Stella had arrived Mac was sitting in another helicopter being checked out by one of the EMT's. Their diagnosis was a mild concussion, but Mac, of course, would hear nothing about going to the hospital to be further examined. Mac had shared the few details that he remembered about the suspect with Don and Stella. His memory was missing a good portion of what happened, probably from the force of impact when he hit the water. After they finished discussing their strategy for bringing this "Joe" person down the three stood there for a long moment. Stella whose eyes hadn't left Mac since they had arrived seemed rooted to the spot. Mac returned her gaze as he slipped out of the helicopter and headed unsteadily to his partner.

"Dizzy," he explained with a self-depreciating smile. Stella smiled back at him, her entire face lighting up in relief. The fact that he escaped his most recent adventure with only a concussion was something to be deeply grateful for.

"Are you sure you don't want to take that helicopter ride back to the hospital, Mac?" Flack asked uncertainly as he moved towards the older detective to assist him. Mac waved him off.

"I'd rather ride in that one back to my lab," Mac stated, pointing at the NYPD chopper that had delivered Stella and Flack there. He stopped in front of Stella, "Hey," he said softly. "Hey," Stella whispered back. For a long moment both of them stood perfectly still neither of them moving, as if afraid their muscles would betray them somehow. Finally Mac reached out a hand to wrap one of Stella's curls around his finger. An evil smile slowly spread across Mac's face as he teased, "Miss me?" Stella refrained from answering, throwing her arms around Mac instead. Mac, already dizzy from the concussion rocked back on his heels. He wrapped his arms around her in response to steady himself.

"I'm all wet," Mac protested, although he tightened his grip around her despite his words.

"I don't care," Stella said tucking her head against his shoulder. Mac kissed her softly on top of her curls.

"I'll uh," Flack glanced at the pair who were decidedly ignoring him. "I'll go see about that helicopter," Flack finally said before discretely slipping off into the crowd and making arrangements for the NYC detectives to get back to the lab. He had the distinct feeling that things were changing between his friends, and that his presence was decidedly unnecessary while they sorted it out.

* * *

Stella rapped softly on the glass next to the door of Mac's office. The events of the day had finally caught up to Mac Taylor as he had fallen asleep in his office chair. Glancing at the clock she realized that it was well after midnight, well after the time that they should be home. Treading softly she slipped into his office and sat casually on the edge of his desk. Even in sleep his brow was furrowed. The team had not turned up any new leads and until something else turned up they were at a dead end. The tire tracks had proven that 'Joe' had probably headed back to the city to get the money, but there was no lead as to his current location. At this point it was best to go home and get some sleep so they would be fresh to follow any new leads tomorrow.

"Mac," she whispered softly, trying not to startle him. Stella had learned the hard way years ago that the man still had his Marine reflexes when awakened suddenly. A breathy, sleepy sound was his only answer. "Mac," she whispered again, shaking his arm. A case file was opened like a butterfly across his chest. Shaking her head she gathered the papers up, her hands sweeping briefly across his chest. "Come on, Mac, wake up," she nudged.

"Stella," he murmured sleepily, stirring. His hands reached out and trapped hers against his chest.

"That's right, Mac, come on, get up," she tapped her hands against his chest. His grip tightened, immobilizing her hands flat against him, pulling her closer to him. Stella slid off the desk before he pulled her off. Concerned that he wasn't waking up she leaned over the chair so that her face was inches from his. "Mac!" she finally shouted.

Mac's eyes flew open and looked around in confusion. The first thing he noticed was the luminescent green eyes of his partner surrounded by a halo of caramel curls. "I could get used to this," he mumbled sleepily releasing Stella's hands to tangle his hands in her hair.

"To falling asleep in your chair?"

"No," he said slowly, "waking up to you." Stella blushed.

"You must have hit your head harder than I thought."

"Maybe it knocked some sense into me," he ran his thumbs along the sides of her cheeks in a caress.

"It's late, Mac. We should be getting home."

"You're coming with me?" Mac asked hopefully.

"Yes, after all you promised me dinner?" she teased.

Mac twisted his arm to look at his watch. "It's going to have to be breakfast at this point, it's after midnight."

"Then you can cook for me tomorrow night."

Mac stared incredulously at Stella for a long moment, "Seriously? You want me to cook for you."

"I'm feeling adventurous," she replied playfully.

"Oh?" Mac inquired. Slowly he stood up from his chair. The space between the chair and his desk was very narrow and he had no choice but to share that tiny space with Stella. The space between them was infinitesimal. Stella closed the gap between them leaning forward to brush her lips against Mac's. "Yes," she whispered against his lips. A tremor of anticipation went through Mac. "Yes, what" his mind wondered. It had been hard enough last night to leave Stella at her bedroom door with simply a goodnight kiss.

"Stell," he moaned uncertainly. She ran her fingers through his hair pulling his lips to hers again.

"We should be going," Stella stated simply as she detangled herself from Mac. With a decided swish to her hips she headed for the door. Mac followed with his eyes, his feet rooted to the spot. She paused in the door, half turning back to meet his gaze. "Coming?" she asked with a smile. Mac had no choice but to follow. He hadn't for a long time now.


	8. Chapter 8

"Hey, Mac," Stella reached across the seat to gently shake her sleeping partner. "You dozed off again."

"Sorry," he mumbled as he glanced around. "We're home," he observed.

"Yeah," Stella smiled, "and as much as I'm not constrained by traditional gender roles, I'm not carrying you upstairs."

Mac returned her smile and opened his door. Stella did likewise and met him on the curb.

"Hawkes said you might be excessively sleepy for the next few days." Mac unlocked the door to his building and opened the door. He looked expectantly at Stella. "He also said you'd need someone to keep an eye on you," she continued passing through the doorway.

"And that someone is you?" Mac asked as he followed her and closed the door.

"Looks like you're stuck with me," Stella tucked her hand through Mac's arm.

"You said that yesterday, Stell."

"Nothing wrong with your memory, I see."

"Just sleepy."

"I know I'm always telling you to sleep more, but not this way."

The two entered the apartment and engaged in the time honored homecoming ritual of kicking off shoes and putting their things away. Mac couldn't help but observe how in a few short days the routine had become seamless dance as they removed their shoes, and put their kits and keys away. It was as if they had been doing it for years. He paused to glance through the mail sitting on the coffee table while Stella went in the kitchen to charge her phone. As he shuffled through the assortment of envelopes he listened to Stella banging around in the kitchen

"I found some orange juice," Stella called. She leaned against the doorway to his kitchen and shook the carton of orange juice. In the other hand she raised up two wine glasses. Mac felt a deep sense of contentment watching Stella making free with his home. He stood there for a long moment simply drinking her in with his eyes, the mail forgotten in his hand. Back in the bank earlier that day he had told 'Joe' that it was nice to know there was someone at home that cared about you. A soft smile spread across his face as he thought about the someone that cared about him. At least he was pretty sure that she cared about him. Stella stood there looking at him expectantly. A flush slowly spread across her face and she glanced down uncertainly at her shirt. "Did I spill something?" she asked, embarrassed.

"No," Mac finally answered. He glanced down at his hands, saw he was still holding the mail and put it back on the coffee table.

"You okay?" Stella asked softly walking into the living area and placing the glasses and juice on the table. She studied his face for a long moment. Gently she reached out and placed a hand on his arm.

"Long day," Mac answered. He glanced down at Stella's hand.

"We should get you to bed then."

"You're always trying to get me in bed," he said with a chuckle. Stella glanced away, the flush that had started earlier turning a deeper red.

"Sleep, Mac. I'm trying to get you to sleep."

"Right," Mac looked down at the orange juice Stella had put down on the table. "I think I'll pass on the orange juice." He turned towards the hallway. "Night, Stell."

"Night, Mac," Stella called as she headed back into the kitchen.

Mac shuffled down to his room, shrugging out of his suit jacket as he went. In a familiar routine he hung up his suit jacket in the closet. Next he put his gun and his badge in the drawer of his nightstand. He fiddled with his alarm clock, wondering if he would actually need the electronic reminder or if a call from the lab would be his wake up call. In truth he hoped that it would be the lab, as that would mean they had a lead on their perp. 'Joe' had gotten under his skin today. He usually prided himself on his ability to read people, to determine their motives. It wasn't often that he was wrong about a suspect. Today he had been wrong. Very wrong, and 'Joe' was in the wind. With a yank he pulled his shirt from his slacks and started attacking the buttons. He threw the shirt in the hamper and absently noted that he would have to do the laundry soon. Sighing he sat on the edge of his bed and began stripping of his socks. A soft tap came at his door. A frown creased his forehead as he walked to the door, tossing his socks in the direction of the laundry. He opened the door to find a sheepish Stella on the other side.

"I'm sorry to bother you," Stella started. She stopped in the middle of the thought as she noticed that Mac was mostly undressed. Her eyes roamed distractedly over his bare chest, lingering for a moment on the scar over his heart. It wasn't the first time she had seen her partner shirtless. They shared a locker room, after all. But here, at his home, in his room. . . she had lost her professional detachment. Not that she was ever completely detached from the sight of her attractive partner. Who had been flirting with her moments earlier, who had kissed her back when she had brushed his lips with hers, who had said that she was trying to get him into bed. With a hard swallow she stared past Mac into the room.

"You're not bothering me, Stell," Mac said softly, the faintest hint of a laugh in his voice.

"Right," Stella said, taking a deep breath and jerking her eyes up to meet his. They were studying her with amusement. She glanced away. "I, uh, it was hot today and," she babbled. Her eyes landed upon Mac's bed. King size, the detective in her noted automatically. A big bed for a single man.

Mac noticed that she had her robe thrown over her arm and made the logical conclusion. He "And you wanted a shower," he finished for her opening the door wide.

Stella gave an embarrassed smile. "Yes." She slipped past him, "Thanks, I'll be quick."

"Take your time," Mac said turning back to his bed.

Stella scampered into the bathroom pulling the door closed behind her. A shaky sigh escaped her as she grabbed a towel out of the linen closet. Get a grip, Bonasera, she told herself as she tried to shake the image of her half naked partner from her head. Her half naked partner who she had kissed twice in the past two days. Who was starting to blur the line of friends and more than friends. Stella sighed, again as she turned on the shower. The warm flush that had suffused her body in the living room had amped up a few degrees in the last few minutes. _When did life get so complicated,_ she thought to herself as she adjusted the water to be just a little bit colder than normal. Quickly she stripped out of her clothes tossing them into a heap on the floor and stepped into the stream of water. The cool waters helped to diffuse some of the warmth she had been feeling moments earlier. She lost herself in the familiar routine of getting clean. After a few moments, she turned the water off, towel dried her hair, and slipped into her robe. Carefully she collected her clothes in a ball and tucked them under one arm. The light was off in the bedroom. She gathered Mac had fallen asleep while she had been in the bathroom. Quietly she opened the door so as not to disturb him. It took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the dim lighting in the room. The only light came from the moonlight streaming through the windows. Stella tiptoed towards the door. Inches from the door a voice stopped her in her steps.

"When I was in the bank, I was talking to 'Joe', trying to get him to stand down," Mac's voice was soft in the darkness, almost as if he was thinking aloud. "He was wearing a wedding ring," there was a sound of rustling fabric from the bed, as if Mac had rolled over. "I told him that it was nice to know that there was someone at home who cared about you. It wasn't just a general truth. I told him because I know."

Silence hung thick in the air for a long moment. "I wasn't talking about Claire." The words wrapped around her like an embrace in the darkness. Stella turned to face the bed. In the dim light she could make out the silhouette of Mac lying on his side on the bed. Unconsciously she took a step towards the bed, drawn to the speaker.

"I do, you know," Stella answered, lowering herself to perch on the edge of the bed. "I have for a long time," she continued softly. "Longer than I probably should of."

Gently Mac brushed the damp hair back from Stella's shoulder pausing to cup her cheek in his hand. "I care about you, too, Stell. I have for a long time," he echoed her words, "longer than I probably should of." Stella tilted her head into his caress.

"Mac, what's happening between us," she asked, her voice barely a whisper.

"A logical progression of our friendship," Mac suggested. His hand slid down to wrap around her shoulder, tugging her gently to him.

"A logical progression. . ." Stella responded incredulously. Mac was never good with words when it came to express his feelings. He was afraid they would come out as too sappy, or worse, insincere. Romantic words that seemed to come readily to other men eluded him. Unbidden Reed's advice from a few days ago came to mind, "Show her."

Mac sat up in bed, dragging Stella across the bed so that her hip was against his. Stella gasped in surprise to find herself flush against Mac. She dropped the bundle of clothes she was carrying, uncaring that they spilled in an inelegant heap on the floor. Eyes wide she watched as Mac lowered his face to hers, his breath blowing soft across her cheek. Tenderly he captured her lower lip in his teasing her lip with his tongue before capturing her mouth fully with his own. Stella whimpered softly as the kiss deepened, her hands reaching up to rest on Mac's bare chest. Taking her actions as a sign of encouragement, Mac tightened his arms around Stella until there was no space between them.

"I'm scared, Mac," Stella confessed in a whisper between kisses.

"Me, too Stella." Mac responded pulling Stella down to the bed next to him, keeping her cradled in his arms. He nuzzled her neck softly.

"I don't want to ruin what we have. . ." she sighed.

"So we'll take things slow," Mac countered calmly, rubbing her back.

Stella laughed, "I'm nearly naked next to you in your bed, and this is slow?"

"Of course. If we were taking things fast you'd be naked beneath me in my bed," Mac returned.

"Mac, what are we going to do?" Stella sighed snuggling against him. The fact that she hadn't slapped him, or pulled his gun on him was encouraging.

"Take this, whatever this is, one day at a time."

Stella nodded her agreement, her damp curls tickling Mac's chest. "You still owe me dinner."

"After we wrap up this case."

"I'm holding you too that," Stella started to disentangle herself from Mac's embrace. She stopped as the arms enfolding her tightened.

"Stay." Mac said. It wasn't exactly a request, but not a command either. He pulled back the covers so she could scoot in. Stella hesitated. "I just want to know you're close," he continued. "You're safe with me."

"I know," Stella said sliding under the covers and back into his arms. "I always feel safe with you."

In what felt like mere seconds, but was more like a few hours later Stella awoke to the incessant ringing of the phone. It was followed an arm reaching past her to grab at the offending item on the nightstand. However, the presence of the additional body in the bed made the owner of said arm flail about ineffectually in pursuit of the phone. Stella reached out and grabbed the phone. Out of habit she pressed the talk button and grumbled, "Bonasera," into the phone.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Stella, I thought I dialed Mac," came the amused voice of Don Flack. Stella passed the phone to Mac. "Good morning, Don," Mac answered as he put the phone to his ear. With interest, Stella watched as Mac's cheeks blushed at whatever the Irish detective was saying. In a few moments his demeanor changed to all business as he rapidly asked a laundry list of questions.

"We have a lead?" Mac nodded placing his phone on the other nightstand.

"Duty calls," Stella said pushing back the covers. The robe she had belted loosely on after her shower last night had shifted in her sleep revealing a tempting view of the curve of her breasts. Mac appreciatively drank in the sight, "I could get used to waking up to you," he observed. Stella leaned over and kissed Mac on the cheek pausing to run her hand slowly over his chest. "I could get used to waking up to _you_."

The events of the day led to the capture of 'Joe', AKA Ethan Scott. It was with a sense of deep satisfaction that he had confronted him at the railway station, confronting him with the litany of his crimes. It was with less satisfaction that he heard of Stella's brush with him earlier in the day that had resulted in her hanging precariously from a top the building. He sighed as he thought back to her words last night, and his promise that he would make her dinner when the case was closed. As late as it was, there would be no cooking tonight, which was a blessing as far as Mac was concerned. He was going to need help. Fortunately Stella had gone to booking with Flack to take care of the formalities of booking the perpetrator. He figured he'd have some time to himself before Stella returned from the precinct and they would head home together. A feeling of satisfaction spread through Mac as he thought about heading home with Stella. It was quick becoming the most natural thing in the world. The extended stay hotel that Stella had been calling home hadn't come up in the last few days, but he was certain something final had to be done about it in the near future. He was afraid to push Stella to give it up and right now there was a tacit understanding that she would stay at his place. Of course the fact that she had spent the night in his bed had been a source of amusement by Don and Mac had been forced to endure the detective's inquisition throughout the day. Mac supposed that technically they had 'slept together' but it wasn't nearly as licentious as Flack would make it out to be. With that final thought, he turned his steps to the morgue, and hopefully the help he was in need of.

"Oh, hey there, Mac," Sid commented as he unclipped his glasses and let him fall to his shoulders. "I didn't see you there."

"Just got back from upstate," Mac replied he turned his gaze to the body on Sid's table.

"Word is that you caught our guy," Sid gathered together the papers he had been working on a placed them into the waiting manila folder. He followed Mac's gaze, "Lauren Salinas. I'm releasing the body." Mac nodded his comprehension. His eyes wandered around the room. Sid followed his friend's gaze trying to determine his purpose for coming down to the morgue. With the most recent case wrapped up, and no new vics that would warrant Mac's personal attention, Sid was at a loss. He studied the detective, who seemed. . . uncomfortable, for the lack of a better word. The ME stepped around the table to stand next to Mac.

"Are you okay, Mac?" Sid asked gently, his voice laced with concern. "Concussions can be funny things."

"No, no," Mac waved his hands in dismissal. "I'm fine." He paused. "It's not that."

"I'm an excellent listener." Sid encouraged.

Mac sighed, "I need your help, Sid. It's something personal."

"Anything, Mac, just ask." Sid said with concern. A hundred possibilities flitted through Sid's mind, each more deadly than the next.

Mac finally met Sid's questioning gaze, "I can't cook," he finally stated morosely.

"Ah," Sid replied, with a sense of relief. For a moment Sid had been worried that the problem had been of a medical nature.

"I was hoping you might be able to give me a few pointers," Mac continued.

"Sure thing, Mac. What does your lady friend like?"

Mac laughed, "She said she was feeling adventurous. But I think that was more a judgment on my cooking skill."

Sid returned the laugh, "That sounds like Stella."

Mac tilted his head and quirked an eyebrow at Sid.

"It is Detective Bonasera you're cooking dinner for, right?"

Mac nodded his head.

"Did you loose a bet?"

Mac smiled and shook his head, "I was supposed to meet her for lunch the other day, and last night we didn't get out of here until after midnight. She told me I was cooking dinner for her."

"Tonight?"

"No, she's down at the precinct with Flack taking care of the details with Ethan Scott."

"Tomorrow night then?"

Mac nodded his head. The two launched into a discussion of a menu that would be fairly easy to throw together and still impress a lady. "I know that oysters are widely considered a powerful aphrodisiac, however, I have found that chocolate and a nice cabernet to be an effective. . ."

Mac held up his hands, "I don't think that's really necessary."

"Really? Even the most satisfying of relationships can be. . ."

"Just dinner, Sid." Mac said with finality.

"I'll drop by your office tomorrow around 5 with instructions and groceries."

"Groceries?"

"I've been to your place, Mac." Mac made a mental note that he would have to start actually food shopping. It seemed that he had a bit of a reputation. Of course if Stella could be convinced to stay, he'd have a reason to start coming home at night. And stocking the fridge. And any other number of things.

"Thanks, Sid." He clasped his friend on the shoulder before heading to the elevator.

"And Mac," he turned back to face the ME. "I'm happy for the both of you. You're good for each other."

"I hope she agrees with you, Sid."


	9. Chapter 9

Mac Taylor lay sleepless in his bed. That alone wasn't unusual. He was a chronic insomniac, and no stranger to lying awake in bed. It had been a long day, and he would have thought it would have been easy for sleep to come. The problem was he was used to sleeping alone. Until last night. He rolled onto his side to face the side of the bed that was now conspicuously empty. The pillow was still dented where Stella had laid her head. The investigator in him noticed a few long strands of golden brown hair on the pillow. But it was the scent that was keeping him awake. The evening before, Stella had just come from the shower, smelling of an enticing combination of vanilla and cinnamon. The fragrance had lingered on the pillow and covers teasing him awake.

Peyton hadn't affected him like this. There had been a few nights that she had stayed over at his place, or he at hers, but he had never felt this sense of incompleteness before. Then again part of him realized that with Peyton he was just going through the motions. She had been the initiator of the relationship and had managed to make him feel guilty when he didn't treat her in the ways she expected. Peyton had wanted their relationship and it had been easier to go along then to say no. Going to London had opened his eyes to what was important to him. He had gone with Peyton because he had been swept up in her desire to bring him home to her family. After reenacting Die Hard in his crime lab he was ready for a little vacation and it had been easy to go with Peyton. But Peyton had wanted more than he could give: she wanted ever after. And he realized that he couldn't give it to her. Not when he was missing meeting a certain someone for coffee in the morning, for being scolded by the same someone for staying at work too late, and for a thousand everyday moments in between.

With a sigh, Mac rolled himself out of bed. He wouldn't be sleeping anytime soon. For a long moment he sat on the edge of the bed, rubbing his face with his hands before going to the closet to pull out his bass. It was comforting to have its familiar weight in his hands. Losing himself in the familiar motions of tuning it and strumming absently at the instrument's strings was soothing. There was no particular song that he had in mind and he found himself simply playing notes. Soon the music took on a life of its own and turned into a familiar melody that he often heard in his head, but was no song he had ever known. He played for a while, finally putting down the guitar when his fingers became tired and were slipping on the strings. A soft clapping sound caught his attention from the doorway. Stella was leaning in the doorway, quietly applauding.

"I'm sorry I woke you," Mac apologized as he put the guitar back in its case.

"I was awake, anyway," Stella responded. "It's a beautiful song. Did you write it?"

"It's more a song I had in my head then one I wrote."

"What's it called?"

"Finding Home," Mac answered. He got up and put the guitar back in the closet. Instead of returning to his bed he walked closer to Stella.

"It's hauntingly beautiful, Mac. I'd love to hear it again."

Stella had been lying in her bed awake staring at the ceiling. Sleep had eluded her as she had tried to find a comfortable spot in the bed. She wasn't sure how long she had been lying there when she heard the soft strains of music coming from the master bedroom. Curious, she had gone to investigate and had been somewhat surprised to find Mac playing the bass in his room. He hadn't looked up when she had gently opened his door, so she had stayed in the doorway listening to the haunting melody. It was somehow warm, yet filled with longing that tugged at her heart.

"Allen wants me to play it at the club."

"Are you going to?"

"I don't like to sing in public."

"Are their words to it, too?"

"Yes."

"I want to be there for the premier," she smiled at him. The smile widened into a long yawn. "I guess that means bedtime." She leaned over to kiss him on the cheek. "Night, Mac," she whispered against his cheek. Mac reached out and slid his arm across her waist, his hand sliding under the short, satiny hem of her tank top. He heard her breath draw in sharply as his fingers skimmed the soft skin across her back. Stella turned her face ever so slightly so that her lips slipped from Mac's cheek to his mouth. Stella teased his lips with her tongue. With a sharp intake of breath he deepened the kiss, drawing Stella tightly up against his chest. Her hands ran up his bare chest and over his shoulders, finally entwining around his neck. A wonderful warmth spread throughout Stella's body, from the top of her head to the tips her toes. Time ceased to have meaning, as she was caught up in the sensations of the moment. Finally, three words whispered like a caress penetrated her brain, "Sweet dreams, Stella-mou." With a last lingering touch, Mac turned to his bed. Stella stood there in his wake, trembling from the intensity of the encounter. A part of her cried, "That's it!" while the other part wondered, "What was that?"

"Right," is what she said, sounding just the slightest bit bewildered. She pulled the door behind her heading back to the spare bedroom. "Right, bed," she muttered more confidently. Watching from across the darkened room, Mac swore he saw her hesitate and stare back at him with something akin to longing. A satisfied grin spread across his face. As hard as it had been for him to tear himself away from that kiss and say a simple goodnight, it had served his purpose. Patience was his greatest ally.

* * *

Mac finally managed to catch only a few hours of sleep before heading into the office the next day. The morning had started out promising enough. Stella had surprised him by making breakfast for him. It had brought a smile to his face to watch Stella bustling about in his kitchen. The silky shorts and tank that she called pajamas seemed highly impractical to him, but he could appreciate the aesthetic qualities. When Stella had delivered the breakfast plates to the table, she knocked the breath right out of him and it wasn't her culinary skills. After placing the plate in front of him, she had leaned down to arrange the silverware on the table top. The loosely draped satin of her top gave into gravity and bowed open affording him a generous glimpse of her bosom. Curves that were often hinted at by his partners sometime's provocative attire were fleetingly revealed, the full curve of her breasts, their rosy tips, the way they swelled as she drew in a deep breath. Mac found himself swallowing hard as he blatantly stared. Throughout the remainder of the meal he found himself distracted every time Stella moved to reach across the table, for each time he was afforded a tantalizing glimpse of her considerable 'charms'. Together with the small smiles she sent his way and the amount of times she 'accidentaly' brushed against him he found himself oddly satisfied by the thought that she was trying to get his attention.

She definitely had gotten his attention when she slipped her arm through his as they headed into the lab that morning. Her eyes had danced at his him as she had linked them together. Mac had said nothing in return, but he hadn't had to. They could speak without words, and the gentle way he tucked her arm a little more tightly in his was all he needed to say to show that he approved. He turned to glance down at her and found himself almost confessing his entire plot to win her. Before the words slipped from his mouth both their phones had gone off at once: there was a scene down at a Maroon 5 concert. They found themselves heading back out the door before even entering the lab.

The scene had yielded a DB that had put Sid in the hospital with radiation poisoning. They were fortunate that Hawkes had been able to quickly identify the type of radiation that had sickened the creepy coroner and prescribe a course of treatment for him. Mac had been deeply concerned for his friend and was relieved that he was on the road to recovery. As the day wound to a close, he found himself in an unfamiliar position. Hawkes and Flack had asked him in joining them at the hospital with Sid to watch the Rangers Game. "You know, a guy's night," Flack had clarified, "but without the beer." Mac had nodded that he would come and even offered to drive. But now he found himself hesitating in the door of Stella's office.

A week ago, Mac wouldn't have hesitated to join the guys for the Ranger's game. Unless of course there was a case that caught his attention at work. But things had changed in the last few days. For one, he had seen more of his apartment over the last few days then he usually saw in half a year. His kitchen had been used more than, well, it had ever been. The local Chinese takout was going to be wondering what happened to him. Then there was Stella. When Reed had first suggested, no ordered him, to tell Stella of his feelings he had been skeptical that there could be a happy outcome. At this point he was cautiously optimistic that he would win the battle. Mac was afraid that if he had simply told Stella what his feelings were she would have run. Instead he had decided to fight a more subtle campaign. The routine that they had slipped into had a natural ease to it. As Stella had asked on more then one occasion, "What's going on between us?" Things were slightly ambiguous. Were they 'together'? Were they 'just friends'? Did he owe her an explanation of his where abouts? Did she expect him home for dinner? Would she vanish back to the Extended Stay hotel if he let her alone for the evening? Up until now Mac hadn't really given her a choice about coming back to his place each night. There had always been a simple enough excuse, although he didn't plan to go and get a concussion again. He was afraid of her reaction if he forced the issue. Mac made a mental note to get her officially out of that hotel the first chance he got. For now though, he had to go 'explain himself' to Stella.

Stella's head was bent over some files she was perusing and she didn't notice him at first. He rapped gently on her door frame to get her attention. She turned her head in response to the noise. When she saw who her visitor was her entire face lit up. "Hey," she said softly, putting down her pen and spinning in her chair to face him.

"Hey," he said in response moving into her office and half sitting on the edge of her desk.

"Wow, this is a change," Stella teased. "Usually I have to come to you."

"I have a favor to ask," Mac replied.

Stella crossed her arms across her chest and leaned back in her chair, "This just gets better and better, doesn't it."

"Only if you're trying to get rid of me," Mac teased back. Stella frowned. "Hawkes and Flack are headed over to watch the Rangers game at the hospital with Sid," Mac said slowly. Two weeks ago he didn't think that he'd ever been in this position again, especially not with his partner. ". . . kind of a guys night." He finished awkwardly. Stella's frown turned to a bemused smile, "and you're asking me if it's okay."

Mac shrugged sheepishly, "I was supposed to cook you dinner."

Stella laughed, and infectious sound of pure joy, "In light of the present circumstances, I think I can grant you a reprieve." She stood up suddenly, and impulsively wrapped her arms around Mac. "Enjoy your night with the 'guys.' You deserve a break from entertaining me." Mac grabbed her tightly around her waist, surprising Stella. She squeaked slightly as he stood up while holding her against him.

"You'll be there when I get back?" Mac asked. His eyes were curiously intense as he asked her. Stella felt her heart race against her chest, whether it was their proximity or the husky quality of his voice as he asked she couldn't tell.

"Yes," she whispered, unable to look away from the intensity of his stare. Somehow she knew her answer was deeply important to him. "I'll be home," a small shiver ran through her as she heard the words home slip from her lips in reference to Mac's apartment. But somehow in the last few days it had come to feel like home to her. A ghost of a smile flickered across Mac's face as she said those words of reassurance.

"I shouldn't be too late," Mac answered feeling as he had been transported back ten years, to a time where he was accountable for his whereabouts to someone. Claire had liked to know where he was but had rarely waited up for him. The unusually hours of a police detective had been somewhat incompatible with her normal 9-5 schedule.

"I'll wait up for you," Stella replied. "You can fill me in on how Sid's doing." Mac rested his head against hers and breathed in the perfume of her hair.

"I'll see you tonight, then," Mac finished and dropped a gentle kiss on her cheek as he loosened his arms around her. Stella blushed faintly and glanced quickly in the hallway to see if anyone was walking by. She squeezed his hand gently in farewell as he turned to go, her eyes following him until he disappeared down the corridor.

By the time Mac had rounded up Hawkes and Flack, stopped at a convenience store to pick up chips and flashed their badges to allow more than two visitors up to visit Sid at the hospital it was well past 8. Sid was excited to see them, although he grumbled about the lack of beer. It was barely ten minutes into the first quarter when Mac's phone rang. Part of him sighed, while the other part of him knew it was all part of the job. Hawkes watched him curiously as he was the 'on-call' tonight and glanced down at his own phone.

"That's what happens when you get the fancy office," Flack joked. "Your time is never your own."

Before hitting the talk button, Mac saw the words 'Bonasera, Stella' flash on the screen. Unconsciously the corner of his mouth tilted upwards in a half smile. He wondered if she was calling to remind him to bring home milk, or some other domestic errand.

"I'm not sure that's work calling," Sid replied looking at the change in Mac's expression when he saw who was calling.

"Mac has a lady?" Hawkes asked softly. The three exchanged a glance, wondering how much the others knew exactly.

"Taylor," Mac answered stepping towards the wall and away from the sound of the TV. Sid, Hawkes, and Flack half turned back to the game. They were trying to appear disinterested, but every one of them was listening. Their attention was quickly rewarded. "Do you need me to come home?" Mac asked, his words crisp with worry. His posture changed immediately, at once alert and tense. He was silent for a few long moments. "I'll take him over in the morning with a few uniforms and take care of it," he sighed. There was another brief silence and some head nodding on Mac's part. "Alright, we can talk about it when I get home. No I shouldn't be too late. Do you need anything?" a ghost of a smile appeared on Mac's face as he uttered the words, as if indulging in a private joke. "I'll stop on the way. I will. Bye." Mac turned off the phone and slipped it back into its case and turned back to the game. He found instead three sets of eyes staring at him. He glanced down to see if he inadvertently dropped some salsa down the front of his shirt.

"Wife calling?" Flack quipped.

"Stella," Mac responded turning back to the game.

"Everything, okay?" Sid asked. "She's not upset at you for standing her up for dinner tonight, is she?"

Hawkes looked between the three other men as if he was missing something. Mac waved his hand dismissively, "No," Mac responded to Sid. "Stella knew I was coming here, tonight, Sid." He sighed, "It's Reed. He showed up at my place a little while ago. Apparently when he went back to his place some reporters were waiting for him to get the scoop. He wasn't expecting to be on the receiving end of his profession. The Cabbie Killer is still hot news."

Sid shifted in his hospital bed, "If you need to go Mac, I understand. Family's first." Concern lined his face. Sid's daughters weren't much younger than Reed.

Mac shook his head, "Stella says she's got it under control."

"Reed's at Stella's?" Flack asked with a confused expression, or perhaps a feigned confused expression. "I thought you said that Reed went to your place."

"He did," Mac returned and reached for the chip bag. There was silence for a long moment. "What's the score?" Mac asked effectively ending the conversation.

* * *

"Hey," Stella said as she shook Reed gently. When she had been in the kitchen talking to Mac Reed had dozed off on the couch.

"Sorry," Reed said groggily as he rubbed at his eyes. "medicine makes me groggy."

"Understandable." Stella set down a container of take out in front of him. "Eating will help."

"I'm sorry to keep popping up like this, Stella," Reed pulled himself into an upright position and pulled the container towards him. "I just didn't want to go back to my parents. They're just so . . ." he trailed off searching for the right words.

"Smothering?" Stella finished for him as she opened her own container. Reed gave a sheepish smile and shoveled a forkful of food in his mouth. "They love you, Reed."

"I know. I just think they'll always see me as a little kid. You and Mac treat me like an adult."

Stella eyes misted the slightest bit at being lumped with Mac into the 'parent' category. She was honored, no matter how off-handed the remark was, that Reed felt that way.

"Maybe because we never changed your diapers," she joked trying to belie the genuine emotion she felt.

"Do you ever wonder what if?" Reed asked staring into his food container. Stella didn't answer allowing him to continue his thoughts. "I've wondered, what it would have been like if my mom, Claire, hadn't given me up for adoption."

Stella, who had often considered that question as a child at St. Basil's, shrugged. "I think it's only natural that we wonder what would have happened if our birth parents didn't give us up."

Reed was quiet for a moment, and then turned his inquiring eyes on Stella, "We?"

"I lived in orphanage from when I was two years old."

"Did your parents give you up, too?" Reed asked curiously.

"I don't know. Some days I would imagine they died. Other days I would imagine they gave me up, knowing they couldn't provide a life for me. The sisters were never able to tell me anything about my parents. I was left there with no records. Only a name."

"Wow," Reed said profoundly, poking absently at his food. "I didn't know."

"It's not something I usually go around telling people." Stella also turned her attention back to her food.

"I didn't know I was adopted until I was a senior in high school. I suspected. Mom never talked about her pregnancy, Dad never mentioned the trip to the hospital or strange cravings. You know, the stuff people are supposed to tease their children with." Reed paused, "Uh, sorry." Stella waved her hand to show that she didn't take offense. "I upset Mom when I said I wanted to find my birth mother. She's always been overprotective. But she gave me the information she had. Claire Conrad.

"I managed to track her to New York. In a way it's ironic that we both ended up in New York. I was born in Chicago, you know." Stella nodded as some sort of response was required.

"I found their marriage license, Claire and Mac's. I followed him home from the lab one day and found his address. I was watching his place when I saw you." He tugged at a lock of his hair. "Your hair's curly like mine."

"You thought I was Claire because I have curly hair?" Stella said incredulous.

Reed shook his head, "No, I thought you were Claire because it was obvious Mac was in love with you."

Stella dropped the container of food on the floor. Rice spilled all over the carpet. "What?" Stella asked in shock.

"You went out of his apartment and down the street to a coffee shop. His hand was on your back as you walked down the street. You turned your face to him and he smiled at you. I hadn't ever seen him smile before. When you got to the shop you sat at a table that had a bench and chairs across. You sat on the bench. Mac slid in next to you instead of sitting across. Your arms brushed against each others and you only had eyes for each other. As you were leaving, you started rubbing your hands against your arms. I'm guessing you were cold. Mac took off his suit jacket and draped it around your shoulders. As he slipped it around your shoulders you leaned up and kissed him on the cheek. When you turned away he paused and wrapped one of your curls around his fingers. You both laughed and took off down the street."

Stella remembered the day in question. She was supposed to meet him at the usual place for breakfast, but she had been called in early for a scene. It had been in Mac's neighborhood so she met him at his place. She had gotten some goo all over her jacket and Danny had taken it back to the lab with the evidence. It had been a bit cold that morning and Mac had given her his jacket. The joke they had been laughing about was when Stella had teased Mac about giving her his jacket saying, "careful, people might get the wrong idea."

Reed shrugged when Stella told him her version of events. "Maybe it wasn't the wrong idea."

Stella let out a shaky sigh, "Things have changed. . .Mac's different." she finally said. "And I'm not sure what's going on."

"Maybe he's decided to show you how he feels," Reed offered. He moved to help Stella clean up the mess on the carpet.

Stella opened her mouth to protest, but closed it. Mac had been treating her differently. He was still Mac, her best friend, but there was something more. They'd touched, hugged, even kissd on the cheek before. But it –always- had been she that initiated the displays of affection. Over the last few days, Mac had initiated the contact: touching her hair, hugging her, and yes kissing her. Not once, but twice, and not just on the cheek. Then there were the flowers, taking time off to spend the day with her, checking with her before making plans with the 'guys'. The repeated offer for her to stay with him. Stella sat down hard on the couch. Reed might be right. She glanced over at him, not sure what to say. She didn't need to say anything.

"I know you love him, too," Reed said softly, "You don't have to tell me."

It was after midnight when Mac finally returned home. Gently, he opened the door not wanting to awaken anyone who might be sleeping. From the conversation he'd had with Stella earlier, it sounded like Reed would be spending the night. His apartment was becoming quite crowded. He cracked a partial smile at that thought. Over the years he'd felt that his apartment seemed empty. Now he found himself wondering if he needed a bigger place. The lights were off in the apartment with the exception of a small lamp on the end table next to his couch. The warm golden glow illuminated the colorful afghan draped over the body on his couch, but did not clue him in as to their identity. Knowing that Stella had made free with his guest room, he assumed it was Reed under the blanket. Quietly he toed off his shoes before stepping into the living room to turn off the light. He paused as he reached for the lamp. Unmistakable honey gold curls spilled along the cushions of his sofa. Stella was peacefully sleeping, a paperback book dangling limply from one hand. The blanket had wrapped itself around her waist and he noticed with some amusement that she was wearing one of his Marine Corps t-shirts. As the air conditioning was running and the air had a bit of a chill, Mac leaned over to pull the blanket up over Stella's shoulders.

"Hey," a sleepy voice murmured softly in the way of a greeting. He found himself staring down into a too familiar pair of emerald eyes.

"Hey, yourself," he answered smiling softly down at her. Stella shifted on the couch, trying to push herself into a sitting position. He pointed at the book dangling from her finger tips. "When was He Wicked?" he asked. Stella flipped the book over and read the title, _When He Was Wicked_. "Before he met her, apparently. Lindsey gave it to me. Said she was swearing of romance as it was all, 'A bunch of nonsense that never happens in real life' end quote." Stella winced as she rested her weight on her right arm. It was still sore from hanging off of the bank building two days ago. Mac frowned and stepped around the couch to help pull her upright. Gratefully, she accepted his help.

"Still a little sore, and yes I took some ibuprofen before lying down."

"Falling asleep on the couch probably isn't helping matters any."

"No," she answered, "But I put Reed in the guest room."

"How is he?" Mac asked full of concern for his stepson. Stella had been vague on the phone.

"A little rattled. I don't think he was expecting to be ambushed by those reporters at his apartment. I offered to take him back to Jersey but he said that he didn't want them tracing him to his parents. He said the connection to us was harder to make and they probably wouldn't think to look for him here."

Mac nodded his head, digesting the information. "Is he asleep?"

"He was at 11:30 or so when I checked." She glanced around the room, "What time is it?"

"A little after midnight. Nurse was shooing us out."

"How's Sid? The game must have helped his spirits. I saw the Rangers won."

"Upset he had to have his salsa and chips without a beer. Typical Sid," Mac thought of the instructions that Sid had written out for him. They were tucked safely in his suit jacket pocket. Sid had even ordered his groceries online for him. "The prognosis is good," he continued, " Sid should be out in a few days."

"Good thing Hawkes figured it out in time." Stella stared up at him, a thoughtful expression on her face. Her forehead wrinkled slightly as she watched him, lost in her own thoughts. Slowly, Mac lowered his frame to perch on the edge of the coffee table so that he was eye level with her. He reached across the gap between them to take her hand in his.

"What's troubling you?" Mac asked gently.

"I," she glanced away to study the paint on the wall instead of looking at him. "I was just thinking that our team has had too many close calls these last few days. You," she paused to glance over at him, "and the team," she continued hurriedly.

"Yourself included," Mac countered.

"I think we're due for a change in luck," she sighed.

"Well," Mac said hesitantly, "I can't promise a change in luck, but how about a change of venue?"

Stella raised an eyebrow.

"I have to testify in Washington next week for the Geitsman-Freberg case. I'm required for two days of testimony. Why don't you fly down and join me afterwards?" Mac asked casually.

"A vacation?" Stella asked with some surprise.

"More like a getaway. A few nights. We can give Danny a chance at some responsibility."

A smile spread slowly across Stella's face, "I'd like that."

"I would too," Mac leaned over to kiss her on the top of her head, his forehead resting against hers as he snaked one hand up to tangle in her hair.. "We can work out the details later. FBI is supposed to contact me with my travel arrangements tomorrow." He dropped his hand down to her shoulder and tugged at the grey fabric.

"I see you were in my wardrobe again."

"Well, when I went to put on my pajamas earlier I realized that I only had the one pair, and with Reed here. . ." Mac thought back to the satin tank and tap shorts that Stella had pranced about his apartment in this morning. The way they accentuated the curve of her hips and granted glimpses of her cleavage when she bent over the table. He shifted slightly on the table at the memory. Mac nodded his understanding and then stood up.

"It's time for bed," Mac announced, standing up and extending his hand out to her. Stella glanced uncertainly at the outstretched hand. "A real bed. You can take mine tonight," he continued, taking her hand in his.

"Mac, I can't take you bed."

"Why not, you take my shirts," he teased.

"I'm fine out here, Mac. It's not an issue."

"You're hurt, and sleeping on my couch you're just going to be stiff in the morning."

"I'm not comfortable with making you sleep out here."

"And I'm not comfortable with you sleeping out here."

There was silence for a long moment as they both tried to outstare the other.

"There is an alternative," Mac finally offered.

"Oh?" Stella asked.

"We could share my bed," Mac said slowly. "It's not like it would be the first time," he teased referencing the night they had spent platonically in bed two nights ago.

Stella was quiet for a long moment. Waking up to Mac Taylor two mornings ago had been an experience that she could easily get used to. It was rare that she had spent the night with any of her boyfriends and with her policy of no men in her apartment had meant very few mornings snuggled up with a loved one. And that was how she had woken up, the weight of Mac's arm warm and comforting around her waist. The scent that was uniquely Mac tickled her nostrils. She couldn't remember a time she had slept so well, despite being woken up early by Flack.

She started to reach for his hand, to accept his offer, then hesitated. "What will Reed think?"

"Nothing that he doesn't already think about us."

Stella couldn't argue with that. Her conversation with Reed earlier that evening had made his opinions on her relationship with Mac abundantly clear. She placed her hand trustingly in his.

"Shall we then?"


	10. Chapter 10

"I guess this is my 'my side'," Stella quipped nervously as she moved towards the bed in Mac's bedroom.

Mac shrugged, "I've always slept on the right." He slipped out of his suit jacket, hanging it up in the closet. Stella sat down on the edge of the bed.

"I'll try not to answer your phone this time," Stella continued as she watched Mac unbutton his shirt. She knew she shouldn't stare, but she had seen Mac staring this morning, so turnabout was fair play. Mac pretended not to notice that she was watching him undress.

"Flack knows."

"Knows what?" Stella asked slowly.

Mac threw his shirt in the laundry pile and moved to sit next to Stella on the bed. He didn't say anything for a long moment. Gently he slid his hand along the side of her cheek, running his hand back to tangle in her hair. Slowly, giving her the opportunity to pull away he drew her lips to his. Tenderly he kissed her, his tongue teasing her lips open. She whimpered softly as the kiss deepened, her hands running across his chest and around his back to pull him close. Mac's intentions had been a simple kiss, but he felt himself being pulled down to the bed as Stella fell backwards. Quickly he placed his hands on either side of Stella's head so as not to crush her beneath his weight. The need for air became too imperative to ignore and they broke the kiss. Stella blinked up at him from the bed, her green eyes luminous.

"So you do this with Flack?" The words took a moment to penetrate the passionate haze that his brain was wrapped in. Stella grinned at him wickedly.

"No," Mac growled. "He knows about us."

"I certainly hope so, we've worked together long enough."

"That's not what I meant, Stella," he ground out.

"Then what did you mean?" she asked, her eyes wide and questioning beneath him.

"That he knows that every day it is a struggle for me to keep my hands off you. That I want you not just in my life as a friend, but as the other half of me. That I want to wake up to you and come home to you. The only reason I hesitated tonight to go visit Sid is that I was afraid you would be gone when I returned and it would be as if this past week never happened."

Stella, who was rarely at a loss for words, was speechless. After Reed's assertion that Mac loved her she felt she shouldn't be surprised by his declaration. She still was. And he hadn't even said he loved her. Not in as many words, at least.

"Mac, I. . ." she said slowly. "I've wanted this for. . ." she flushed red. "Too long." She continued, "But I've forced myself to ignore the feelings for so long because they were inappropriate between friends."

"Why?" Mac asked.

"Well," she hesitated, "you were married."

"Ah," Mac said. A hint of surprise flashed across his face although he tried to disguise it. He rolled over onto his back, pulling Stella with him.

"After Claire died, you were mourning her, it would have felt wrong to even suggest. And then when you finally took off your ring, it was for another woman."

"I had no idea. . ." Mac started to apologize. He remembered that night clearly. She had walked into his office, and he found himself wishing that she was his date, and not a relative stranger. When she had removed his tie, he found it harder to breath than he had with it on. It was then that he had first started to admit to himself that his feelings for her might be more than just friends. Stella held up a finger to his lips to silence him. "And then there were a hundred other reasons, Peyton, Frankie, work. The timing was never right."

"So how about now?"

"What if it doesn't work between us?"

"First," Mac said rolling on his side to face Stella. He rested his hand lightly on her waist. "Let's concede that there is something between us."

"Conceded."

"Something that has been unspoken on both of our parts for a while now."

"Okay," Stella agreed, a small smile beginning to spread on her face.

"Logically, we should experiment to discover what this something is."

"It's not exactly something we can run through the GCMS," Stella said with a grin.

"No, I think it might require old fashioned detective work," Mac said sliding his hand up her side.

"Real hands on stuff," Stella reiterated. She reached over and ran her hand across Mac's chest. He placed his hand on top of hers, stilling it over his heart.

"I'm not asking for forever, Stell. But I reserve the right to do so later."

"And I'm not promising forever, but I'm open to the possibility."

"Then I'll allow myself to be cautiously optimistic," Mac said. Stella nuzzled against his neck, tucking her head against his shoulder.

"I've screwed up every relationship I've been in. I don't want to screw up this one."

"Then we'll take it slow and get it right," Mac responded. Stella closed her eyes and breathed in the smell of Mac. The sound of rustling fabric caught her attention as well as the fact that Mac was wiggling. She glanced over to see that Mac was wriggling out of his pants.

She picked her head up, "I thought you said we were taking it slow."

"I can't sleep in my pants, Stell. Hell, I might not be able to sleep without a cold shower," Mac groaned self consciously. Stella stole a glance to confirm Mac's cold shower comment.

"I'm not finding it any easier than you," Stella commiserated.

"Temptress," Mac countered sliding his finger tips along her side. Stella squealed and tried to squirm away, laughter bursting forth from her lips.

"Not fair," she whined as she attempted to squirm away. Mac tightened his grip around her and tickled her again.

"Ah, ticklish I see," a wicked grin spread across is his face as he tortured her with more tickles. Stella shrieked and struggled to get away, retaliating with a tickling strategy of her own. Mac half-grumbled, half-laughed at her retaliatory strike. Soon the contest became a no holds barred fiasco that resulted in Stella sitting on top of Mac. However, he had managed to trap her hands.

"I think we need to declare a truce," Stella panted. The exertions of the tickle fight had left her out of breath.

"Truce," Mac agreed, tugging her down to him and kissing her softly. "I suppose we should try to go to sleep." Stella rolled off of him and curled up next to him.

* * *

When Stella awoke the following morning, it was not due to an alarm clock, the incessant ringing of a phone, or even the pestering rays of sunlight. Strangely enough, she woke up because she was no longer tired. It was a rare sensation for one that spent most of their life working odd hours. She snuggled against the pillows with a soft sigh, closing her eyes to catch a few more moments of sleep. Today she was on swing shift, so she didn't have to be until noon. It was still early, and judging by the soft breathing beside her, Mac was still asleep. His arm was wrapped loosely around her waist, his hand resting on her stomach as she was pulled full up against him. She moved to turn slightly to glance at the alarm clock and check the time. Mac tightened his grip around her, preventing her from moving away, his hand sliding just under her breasts. Stella smiled softly to herself and lay her head back down. The world could wait a few more minutes for her to wake up. She closed her eyes and prepared to catch a few more moments of slumber. The softness of the bed, the smoothness of the sheets, the fluffiness of the pillows, the comforting weight of Mac's hand on her stomach all enticed her to stay longer.

Mac awoke to Stella stirring against him. He wasn't too keen on getting up just yet, and instinctively tightened his grip around her waist to prevent her from escaping. His hand slipped up her abdomen as he pulled her to him, his thumb brushing against the soft underside of her breasts. He stilled, although the action was accidental not sure what her reaction would be. She settled back down against him, apparently opting for a few moments more of sleep. Tentatively he slid his thumb against the curve of her breast. He felt, more than heard the sharp intake of breath in response. She didn't move away. Slowly, he slid his fingers upwards running lightly across the fullness of her, teasing her gently, his touch sweeping in a slow lazy arc. Beneath the palm of his hand, he felt her heartbeat increase at each sweep of his fingers. A soft moan escaped her lips, one she was trying to smother, but failed as she arched back against him. He dropped his hands back down to her waist and was met with a disappointed little sound. After a few moments of feigned sleep, he nuzzled the soft skin against her neck, dropping a kiss on her shoulder.

"You are awake," Stella declared as she rolled over in his arms.

"I am now," Mac said, opening his eyes. "Good morning, dear."

Stella looked at him, her eyes slightly narrowed. He could tell that she wanted to ask him exactly how long he had been awake, but didn't want to tell him what he's been doing. Her cheeks were flushed and he could tell from the way she was pressed up against him that her body was betraying the enjoyment of a few moments earlier. Mac made a big show of yawning and stretching.

"Whose turn is it for breakfast?"

"I think it's Reed's turn," Stella grumped. Mac chuckled. "I'll get it. You have to be in soon enough and I've got swing today. You jump in the shower first."

Stella stumbled out to the kitchen, to find that her joke about Reed had been half right. He was indeed in the kitchen. The coffee pot was going and he was staring into the fridge.

"Morning, Reed," Stella said as she headed to the cabinets to pull down some cups.

"Oh, hey, Stella," Reed said finally pulling the eggs out of the fridge. "I figured you guys were still asleep, so I thought I'd start breakfast. I wasn't sure what time Mac was headed out this morning and I didn't want him to have to wait on me." Reed was already dressed and ready for the day. Stella noticed that he had put a collarred shirt on and had the collar turned up slightly in an attempt to hide the bandage around his neck. He paused. "Not a whole lot of options."

"There usually isn't," Stella laughed as she sipped at her first cup of coffee. "That's why we usually meet for breakfast."

"No need to meet though if you're both in the same place."

"True, but we'd actually have to remember to food shop."

The two continued to chat as they threw together a haphazard breakfast of eggs, toast, and a jar of preserves they found in a cupboard. Mac came into the kitchen after getting ready for the day only to find they had moved into the dining room. He stopped to grab himself a cup of coffee before joining them. Stella had left a coffee mug on the counter next to the machine for him. As he poured himself a cup, a Post-It note next to Stella's phone caught his eye. "Jeff Morrows, Century 21. 212-555-4327 2523 Clarkson." Mac studied the note for a long moment. Stella had been talking to a realtor. He had been confident that his strategy had been working. Mac had hoped that he was convincing her that she belonged here with him. He was angry. His coffee mug filled, he picked up the note and brought it with him into the dining room. Stella and Reed both smiled up at him as he entered, although Stella's quickly changed to a questioning look when she saw Mac's expression.

"What's wrong?" she asked in concern. She reached out to him as he sat at the table.

"What's this?" Mac asked, trying to keep his voice even as he held up the finger that the sticky note was attached to. Reed quietly picked up his plate and headed back to the kitchen.

"Oh, that," said in an off handed way taking the note from him. "Right after the fire I was looking for a new place. This realtor suggested that I buy a piece of property, as an investment. He suggested that I might want to consider," she paused, staring directly at Mac, "setting down roots. Start a family."

"I wasn't convinced, but then he showed me a townhouse. It was too big for me, and probably more than I could afford, but it was gorgeous." He face lit up as she described it. "I put a bid in on it anyway."

"They got a better offer, and I assumed it was for the best. I would have been lost in it by myself and the payments probably would have been too much for just me to handle." She sighed.

"Anyway, he called last night. It's back on the market. Bankruptcy. And the price was reduced so, he wanted to know if I was still interested."

"And are you?" Mac asked carefully.

Stella just sighed again. "I don't know. Things have," she paused. "Changed," she finished meaningfully. "I suppose it couldn't hurt to take another look."

Mac slid his eggs around on his plate, "If you wanted a second opinion, I could come with you."

"I'd like that. It's only a few blocks from here."

The two ate their breakfast in silence. Mac called for Reed and told him it was time they headed out so he could take him by his apartment to get his things. As they were getting ready to leave, Reed remembered that he'd left something in the guest room and went back to get it.

"Mac," Stella called softly as she met Mac at the door. He looked uncertainly down at her. "I haven't been looking for a place since I've been here with you. Honestly, you've been spoiling me rotten. I'm not sure you'll be able to get rid of me."

"Then stay with me, Stella," he wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her close to him.

"I. . ." she looked away.

"At least check out of that hotel. You haven't been there in over a week."

She hesitated, "Okay."

"Okay?" Mac countered. Stella nodded her head.

"When I get off shift tonight."

"I'll help you. I'm sure I can find something to do at the lab while I'm waiting for you."

Stella made a face at him, "Just as long as I don't end up waiting for you."

"Promise," Mac held up three fingers. "Scout's honor."

Stella kissed Mac on the cheek. "I'll see you later." She glanced over and saw Reed was waiting to go. She disentangled herself from Mac and moved to hug Reed, "Take care of yourself, Reed. And don't hesitate to call or come if you need anything." She shook her finger at him, "And I mean it. I promise not to smoother you."

Reed grinned. "I won't, don't worry, Stella." He hugged her back, "Give him a chance, Stella," Reed whispered in her ear before pulling away. Stella blushed as she waved the two men out the door. Mac looked at the pair of them curiously, and stared at Reed as they headed for the door. Reed studiously avoided the penetrating gaze. Stella heard Mac ask as they moved into the hallway, "What did you say to her?"

When all was said and done, moving out of the Extended Stay was achieved with relative ease. There really was very little left in the suite that was hers. The small amount that Stella had salvaged from the fire was in storage. In the end they had filled a few evidence boxes with the clothes, books and other random things she had acquired. Stella had laughed about going shopping again now that she wasn't paying the hotel.

When they arrived back at Mac's place, they had carried the boxes into what Mac was starting to think of as Stella's room. He'd encouraged her to see about putting her things away while he 'threw dinner together.' Stella faithfully promised not to come bother him until he said it was done since he told her it was a surprise. She busied herself putting clothes away and getting rid of boxes and was surprised when Mac knocked on her door to tell her that dinner was ready.

"Close your eyes," he told her. When she obeyed, he took her by the hand and led her to the balcony where he had set up the dinner. Mac had left the improvised table out there from the breakfast all those mornings ago. Instead of flowers, candles were centered on the table casting a warm glow on the dinner spread out of the table. "We'll have to do without wine," he apologized leading her to the table and pulling out the chair. "I'm on call tonight."

"Wow," Stella breathed. "I'm impressed."

"You might want to wait until you've tasted it." Mac seated himself on the other side of the table and reached for the appetizer. He waved a hand at the food, indicating that they she should start. Stella bit into the scallops and made an appreciative sound.

"You've been holding out on me all these years. Where did you learn to cook like this?"

"The morgue," Mac said blandly, reaching for his drink. Stella blinked at him.

"The morgue?" she asked uncertainly.

"Well, Sid was in the morgue at the time."

"Oh, that makes more sense," she took another bite. She glanced over at him. "You asked Sid to teach you to cook?"

Mac shrugged, "He used to be a chef."

"For me?"

"It was that or make you spaghetti. I can boil water."

Stella looked away, glancing out at the stars. She tilted her head so that her curls hid her face from view.

"Stell?" Mac asked softly. Stella's head shook in response and he heard a suspicious sniffing sound. He put his napkin down and came around the table, kneeling in front of her. Gently he took both her hands in his, "Stella?" he asked softly. She sniffled again. "What's wrong?" Finally she tilted her head up, revealing eyes that glistened with tears.

"It's stupid," she answered, her voice wobbly.

"It's not stupid if you're crying about it," he encouraged. Softly he rubbed lazy circles on the back of her hands with his thumbs.

"No one," she breathed, "No one," she repeated louder, "has done anything like this for me. Ever."

"I'm glad." Mac replied. Stella's eyes narrowed as she looked down at him.

"You're glad?" she asked incredulously.

"Yes, because I was given the privilege of doing it for you first. And from now on, I hope to be the only one." He reached up with his thumbs and wiped the tears away from her eyes before standing up. "Now do you want to try the rest?"

.


	11. Chapter 11

Stella was humming softly to herself as she tapped her pencil repeatedly on the stack of paperwork in front of her. She was stuck in the office today, swamped in paperwork for a particularly tricky case. It was cross-jurisdiction and the amount of paperwork was always exponentially increased depending on the amount of agencies involved. Despite all that a smile graced her face as she tackled the project in front of her. Since she had 'moved in' with Mac, she found herself finding more to smile about in life. Although they didn't work identical schedules, each day they found time to unwind together. More and more she had found herself leaving at the end of shift instead of finding excuses to stay. Today they were meeting with the realtor to look at the townhouse that Jeff Morrow was representing. It had been over a week since she had originally gotten his phone call and she had dragged her heels about going to see it. She glanced over at the clock and realized she only had about ten more minutes before they'd have to head out if they were going to keep their appointment. Mac had been strangely insistent that she go see the place. Something about 'closure' and 'no regrets'. Stella had found it odd that he had spent so much time convincing her to come stay with him, and now was encouraging her to find her own place.

"Don't shoot the messenger, but I have more forms for you," Lindsay said with a sign as she brought another armload of papers into Stella's office. "Mac said to bring them in here since he's trying to wrap things up before he leaves for DC. The good news is they just require a signature."

Stella smiled at the younger woman, "Just leave them on the chair there." Stella pointed to one of the chairs across from her desk. "Hopefully I'll have them done by Thursday." The two women laughed together though Lindsay's seemed a bit forced. Stella tilted her head to one side and studied the junior detective. Lindsay looked a bit paler than usual, although she had tried to cover it up with make-up. There was a thick layer of concealer under her eyes attempting to disguise dark smudges, which might not be apparent to a casual observer, but was to a criminalist. Yesterday Lindsay had asked Stella if it was okay if she was a little late as she had an appointment. Stella wondered how long this had been going on and if she had missed it due to her own distractions.

"Everything okay, Linds?" Stella asked with concern. She put down the papers she was holding and turned her full attention to Lindsay.

"Yes, of course it is. Why do you ask?" Lindsay said in a rush as she edged towards the door.

"Well, you're looking a little pale, and I know you had a doctor's appointment this morning."

"Oh, that," Lindsay made a dismissive gesture. "Just a check-up, you know, normal stuff. Nothing to worry about." Lindsay peeked out in the hallway, avoiding her gaze. Quickly she changed the topic. "Mac's got Danny in his office. Looks serious."

"Mac's probably just letting him know that he's going to be in charge for a few days while we're both off."

"Danny?" Lindsay looked surprised.

"Why are you surprised?"

"It's just he can be so. . . irresponsible." Lindsay spat out. Stella sensed there was something going on between the on again, off again couple.

"You know you can talk to me, right?" Stella offered quietly.

"I gotta go," Lindsay declared running off in the direction of the locker room. Stella blinked at the odd behavior and made a note to follow up with Lindsay later in the week.

Stella turned her attention back to the paperwork, trying to wrap up a few last things before taking them down to the desk. The stack that Lindsay brought to her was pretty straightforward, just needing a supervisor's signatures. She was finishing up the last of the folders when a shadow fell across her desk.

"Need help with those?" a familiar voice asked. Stella turned to see Mac standing in the doorway.

"Actually, the majority of it is ready to go." Stella closed the file she was holding and stood up. She handed one stack to Mac and followed it with a second.

"You've been busy. Your hand must be tired," he commented as he juggled the second set of papers. She made a show of flexing the muscles in her fingers before grabbing her purse, kit, and third pile of folders.

"I like to leave a clean desk before I go away."

"As do I," Mac returned nodding his head in the direction of his glass-walled office as they headed for the elevator.

"Ah, but you just relocate the mess instead of clearing it," she teased.

"So, you should just relocate everything to Danny's desk," Mac countered.

"How'd it go?" Stella asked as they entered the elevator.

"He was," Mac paused to find the right words. "Surprised is probably the best description. But he was excited by the opportunity to 'live up to my expectations'." Mac stopped and hit the button for the ground floor. "He opened up and said that he had been going through some. . .stuff." Stella was pretty sure that Danny used a different word starting in 's'. "It was a good talk."

"Ironic that Lindsay was just in my office acting strangely."

"It's something they're going to have to work out between themselves," Mac shrugged.

The pair stopped at the desk to hand their files in before heading out. Their conversation changed to their plans to meet with the realtor and what to do about dinner that night. They managed to make it to the showing with just a few minutes to spare. The building was made of a non-descript gray stone, but possessed of small details that made it stand out from its neighbors. Extra attention had been paid to the carving of the stone around the entryway and the window frames. The upper levels sported private balconies on the sides of the buildings, although only the bottoms were visible from the street level. Jeff Morrows was waiting out front for them. Stella had liked the realtor when she met him because he exuded an earnest aura instead of the oily salesperson she had found other realtors to possess. She quickly introduced Mac to Jeff and watched as the two men shook hands. Jeff smiled over at her and indicated that they should head up to see the place. The three made chit chat about the neighborhood and the weather as they rode the elevator up.

"The property is currently vacant," the realtor explained as the exited the elevator and paused in front of a thick oaken door. "It's a bank owned property and doesn't have any furnishings in it. The previous owners treated it well in the small time they were here and did not damage the property when they moved out. Sometimes it's better to see a space without furniture as you can envision your own belonging in it easier." Jeff opened the door and allowed Mac and Stella to pass through.

The townhouse boasted a small foyer with a coat closet and a half bath. Stella absently listened to the realtors patter as he rattled off the features of the property to Mac. Three bedrooms, two and a half baths, hardwood floors throughout, newly painted, updated kitchen with granite countertops, and so on. She paused in the archway between the foyer and the main living space. Sunlight spilled in through two floor-to-ceiling windows on the far end of the great room. Set in between the two windows was a set of doors that led out to a terrace. The soft golden rays of the setting sun warmed the warm wood tones of the floor and muted red of the bricks on the opposing wall. A fireplace dominated the other wall with a flagstone hearth. Stella stood in the center of the room drinking in the sunlight and scanning the room. She could easily picture a cozy configuration of furniture in front of the fireplace and an informal dining area in front of the windows. An area rug in rich earth tones would complement the warm tones that the room already had. From her previous visit she knew there was a hallways that led down to the kitchen and private area of the home. Before heading down the hallway she paused in front of the windows to stare out at the city below her. She felt, rather than heard Mac come up behind her, his hands wrapping around her waist from behind. Instinctively she leaned back into him.

"I can see why you fell in love with this place, the view is spectacular," Mac observed following her gaze out the window. "Your realtor has been studiously filling me in on all of the features of the place."

"Did he tell you about the sunken garden tub?" she asked.

"No. He did mention that it had two and half baths though."

"You have to see it," Stella said taking his hand in hers and leading her down the hallway, past the kitchen. She led him into the master bedroom which he quickly noted was large and sunny like the rest of the space and possessed of another set of door which most likely led out to a balcony. Stella led through the room past the doors to a closet, and into the master bath. The room was done in brown natural stone with gold fixtures. The tub that had brought him to see was a deep, oversized, whirlpool tub of deep green marble. It was raised up from the bathroom floor next to a large window.

"Can you imagine coming home after a long day and soaking in that?" Stella asked enthusiastically. "It's so hard to soak in a regular tub. My legs are too long and they hang over the edge." She sat on the edge of the tub. "This is probably big enough for two."

Mac contemplated the tub and indeed could imagine Stella coming home from work and soaking in that tub. And indeed, for a few moments, he indulged himself in imagining exactly that. Stella soaking in the tub that was probably big enough for two. He scanned it with a professional eye and was not convinced that it was in truth 'big enough for two', but he was willing to try. His mind conjured up a picture of Stella unwinding in the tub, candles lit on the edges of the tub. Her hair would be pulled up out of the water, damp tendrils clinging to her neck and tickling the tips of her. . .

"So do you like what you see?" Stella asked.

"Yes," Mac answered huskily drawing closer to her. Stella found herself tilting her head upwards as Mac's lowered down to hers.

Footsteps from behind them broke the spell. "Did you have the chance to view the other two bedrooms?" Jeff called cheerfully as he entered the room. "They have their own bath and would be perfect kids rooms."

"No, no we haven't," Mac answered clearing his throat. Stella stood up and brushed past Mac their bodies touching as she headed out of the room. Mac closed his eyes and took a deep breath before following her down the hallway.

Mac and Stella finished the tour of the apartment and Jeff concluded the tour by telling them he would wait by the elevator if they wanted to take a few more moments to look around. He pulled the door discretely behind him leaving them alone to discuss the property.

"So. . ." Mac asked slowly.

She sighed, "I don't know. The place looks even larger without furniture. I'd be rattling around here all by myself." She gave a last longing look around, "it is beautiful, though."

"It has a certain quality that makes it feel warm and homey," Mac conceded.

"You noticed that, too?" Stella asked tossing her curls to one side.

Mac had noticed it, when he saw Stella with her face upturned into the sunlight. Home to him was where Stella was.

"Though you are right. You probably don't need three bedrooms of your own."

"No, I don't. And it's still a lot even at the reduced price. I don't have any furniture; I'd have to furnish the place."

The realtor had filled Mac on all the details such as the asking price, taxes, the typical monthly payments. Stella was right. It would probably be a lot on just her salary.

"You just need a roommate. It would take care of the money problem, and the space issue."

"A roommate?" Stella blinked. She'd lived alone since college up until when she had 'temporarily' moved in with Mac. She couldn't imagine going back to having a roommate. Here was Mac trying to push her out again.

"Well, you see lately my place has been getting a little small," he half smiled at Stella, "with my step-son and everything. I've been thinking about upgrading."

Stella looked confused, "You want to move in with me? What about your place?"

"Well, I wouldn't sell it. I'd probably keep it as an investment and sub-let. It's paid off." The insurance on the mortgage had paid the balance at Claire's death.

"You're serious?"

Mac nodded his head, "Think about it, Stella."

"I will," Stella said seriously. "I will."

Jeff had been pleased when they said they were interested in the property, but wouldn't be able to make a decision until after their trip to Washington. He gave each of them his business card and told them he'd be in touch. They ended up getting home later than expected after lingering over dinner at a Thai place. Mac had gone to pack when they got home as he had an early flight out the next morning. They would have to be up before 5 the next morning as Stella was driving him to the airport before going in to work.

Stella had taken Mac to the airport and vice versa on many occasions. She'd taken Flack there and even Lindsay. It was a routine thing. An everyday thing. This time as she was sitting in the Avalanche waiting for a space at the curbside check in at JFK she felt an unaccountable sadness. She glanced over at Mac who was staring out the window at the other passengers unloading the cars and getting into the line for the SkyCaps. Tears pricked at her eyes and she blinked stubbornly at them. She didn't know what had gotten into her lately with all these tears.

"I'm going to miss you," she said softly reaching over with her right hand to take his left. He turned to face her, his eyes a curious mixture of emotions.

"I'll miss you, too," he replied leaning over to kiss her gently on the cheek. "I'll see you in a couple of days." Tenderly he brushed his hand through her hair.

"I know."

"I emailed your ticket to you before I left this morning. I asked Don to take you to the airport."

"You didn't have to."

"I know. I just knew you'd have a lot on your mind."

"Don't have too much fun without me," Stella tried to joke.

"Testifying for an FBI case, I couldn't if I tried," Mac smiled wryly. "Think of me when you're at a scene digging through trash. You'll be having more fun than me."

"I'd rather think of you at home."

"Oh?" Mac asked arching an eyebrow.

"Mmm-hmm," Stella responded leaning in to kiss him full on the lips. The two lost themselves in the bittersweet taste of a farewell kiss. Neither was inclined to stop as to end the kiss was to say goodbye. In the end, the blaring sound of a horn behind them ended the kiss.

"I know I'll be thinking of you," Mac said drawing in a shaky breath as Stella pulled the Avalanche into a now free space.

"That was the general idea."

Glancing at her watch, Stella noticed she was cutting it a little closer to 8AM then she would of liked. She pulled Mac's Avalanche into the first available spot she could find in the garage and dashed into the building. It didn't really matter if she was late. After all, the boss was away, but it wouldn't set a good example if she was late to work. As she was rushing across the lobby she heard the receptionist call out her name. With a sigh she slowed her steps and turned toward the desk. "Hello, Jeanine," she said stopping in front of her.

"Morning, detective," she replied with a coy smile. "I have something for you." She handed over a manila envelope with her name scrawled across it in Mac's handwriting. It was obvious that Jeanine knew it was Mac's handwriting as well from the knowing look she was giving her.

"Thanks, Jeanine," Stella said heading for the elevators.

"Wait, Detective," she called coming out from behind the desk. "These are for you as well." In her hands was a cut glass vase of brightly colored sunflowers. Not just simply yellow, they were shades of russet, amber, and coral as well. They were beautiful.

"Wow," Stella said, trying to prevent the goofy grin from spreading across her face.

"They came by courier this morning, Detective. He said they had to be here by 7:50AM and he was afraid he'd be late."

Stella touched the satiny petals with her finger and hid her smile behind the blooms. Mac knew exactly how long it would take her to get from JFK to the lab and had wanted to make sure they beat her there.

"Thanks, Jeanine," she murmured and headed up to the lab. As she walked from the elevator into the lab a few of the techs commented on the flowers and how 'lucky' she was. Stella found herself agreeing with them. She headed for Mac's office, where she usually spent her days when Mac was away. Carefully she set the blooms on the edge of the desk, turning them so the smiling faces of the flowers would face her while she was sitting at the desk.

"Hey, that's a nice piece of evidence you got there, Stell," Danny said as he strolled behind her into Mac's office.

"Thanks," Stella said touching the flowers one more time. "I think they're beautiful."

"Who they from? That Walsh guy?" Danny asked as he flopped himself into one of the chairs across from Mac's desk. Walsh was a firefighter on the opposing team for their upcoming NYPD softball game. He had been chatting Stella up at a scene yesterday.

"No," Stella said dismissively. "They're from Mac."

"Mac sent flowers to himself. You'd think he woulda known he was going to be in Washington." Danny deadpanned.

"Very funny, Messer," Stella countered.

"I figured I'd come by and see if you wanted help passing out the assignments. Not that you need help," he continued hurriedly, "but I thought you might want to show me how it's done before you go away, too."

"Good thinking," Stella complimented as she took the stack of the days assignments. "First, you need to see what we have on our plate. Then you prioritize based on complexity, geographic area, and level of urgency. Anything with Sinclair's name is urgent," she smirked. Danny shared her conspiratorial grin. After showing Danny the process and handing out the days assignments, she headed back to Mac's office. Settling into his chair she picked up the manila envelope and spun the chair so that her back was to the lab. She cracked open the seal and pulled out the letter.

_Stella-_

_I know you said that you were planning to do some shopping now that you weren't paying for the hotel. I hope you treated yourself to an evening dress. A buddy of mine from the Marine Corps invited us to a benefit at the Smithsonian Friday night. It's black tie. I hope you don't think it's too much like work. I might even be persuaded to dance._

_I hope you don't mind, but I arranged for a car to pick you up at the airport. We're staying at the Mandarin Oriental. There will be a key waiting for you at the desk in case I'm still tied up at the Bureau. We'll have to be ready to go by 6:30._

_Yours,_

_Mac_

Stella read the note and read the note again. The Mandarin Oriental? She was pretty sure that wasn't the name that Mac gave her in his contact info. The paper with his contact info was in her purse and she double checked. No, he was definitely in the Hyatt near Pentagon City. Curious, she called up the website. One of the top 100 hotels in the country? She sat back in her chair. Mac was determined to treat her like a princess. Then she would make sure that she looked like one. With a smile she remembered a dress she had seen in a little shop off 5th Avenue. One that she adored, but was certain she'd never have someone to wear it for. She wondered if they still had it. Quickly she located their number online and was about to call, when her phone rang. No caller id showed up so she answered with her usually, "Bonasera." When she heard Mac's voice on the other end of the line she was stunned. His flight should have been on its way to Washington. What was even more unexpected was that there was a murder on the plane. Time for daydreams was over.


End file.
